All in the Faculty
Chapter 36: Fear
– 2 years ago, in Amsterdam –
(II/III)
"You don't look like you're having a very good time…"
"Piss off."
Thirty stories above street level, Jane's bad mood had reached an all-time low. The setting had nothing do with it. In fact, almost anyone else would've been positively thrilled to experience such fine dining, where shimmering chandeliers cast glimmering shadows onto bar stools and waiters in tailored suits knew the wine menu off by heart. One of the finest hotels in all of Holland spanned the remaining twenty-nine stories, offering opulent rooms to anyone with the riches to match. One such man was among the hotel's patrons; a most fortunate man, who could officially be counted among the most unfortunate, for Jane had been sent to kill him.
She checked her watch: close to ten o' clock. How long was she going to have to sit at this bar fielding one-liners from overconfident megalomaniacs? Dipping a finger into her drink, she stirred it aimlessly, contemplating downing the contents in one go. It was her second already. Another and she would be compromising her advantage. Not that the idea particularly bothered her… Jane had already reached the point where a part of her wanted to lose the next battle, more so than she was perhaps fully ready to admit.
A shadow caught the corner of her eye; reflexively she turned, bumping into the man who'd just leaned across the bar to return an empty glass. As soon as they locked eyes she recognized him. It was the fair-haired man from the street.
"Sorry," they said at once. He blinked at her. Jane was tempted to glance away so as not to give him the wrong impression, but something about the way he was looking at her held her back. Nothing like the myriad of admirers who'd accosted her throughout the last hour and a half; on the contrary, he was looking at her the way one might look at a world-famous work of art.
"Wow," he said, almost breathlessly. "Who are you?"
The point-blank question seemed to catch them both off-guard. No pick-up line, no clever remark – it was a wholly unexpected reaction, full of wonder. Catching himself, he smiled and glanced away, running a hand through his hair as if embarrassed.
"Sorry," he said again. "Rude of me."
The waiter was busy with another customer, leaving him to linger next to her in relative silence. Even more surprising was his lack of introduction. Was he not even going to try? It was a significant departure from the night's pattern of events. Nobody sat next to her without trying to talk to her – in places like these, it simply didn't happen.
She thought back to what she'd seen of him that morning – that strange, fluid dance, for which she could come up with no reasonable explanation. He was among the youngest in the room, and strikingly handsome, though this was something Jane had thought she'd stopped noticing. His uncertainty in her presence, so unlike all the others, only made her that much more curious about him.
"Jane," she found herself saying. "Jane Beatrix."
It was her name for the night, taken from a street advertisement for a jazz ensemble playing somewhere in the city.
"Like the singer?" he asked.
She stared at him.
"I saw a show last night," he explained. "That was the name of the singer."
"Yeah," she said. "Like the singer."
His empty glass was soundlessly collected by the bartender, who brushed past them unnoticed.
"I'm Alex," he told her. "Your accent… are you American?"
"I was born there. You're from England?"
"Yes… though it's been ages since I was last home. Almost feels a little weird calling it that."
It was the type of casual conversation Jane rarely got the chance to enjoy, since nearly everyone she spoke to tended to want something from her. Instead, she got the impression that she'd caught him in one of his own in-between moments.
"Tell me about it. And what do you do?"
He flagged down the bartender to order a glass of water before answering.
"It's really not worth talking about; utterly boring stuff. The highlight of my job is exchanges like this – unstructured; innocent. Feels so good to be talking to a real person, you know?"
The bartender placed the water down next to him. It was swept up in his hand a second later. Jane lifted her glass into the air, inviting him to bring them together with a muted clink. "I'll drink to that."
The music picked up with the crowd – it was starting to get busier. She really should've been watching the door for her target, but knowing so little about the man she was supposed to kill really hadn't warmed her up to the idea of following through with it. Never before had she failed to kill someone Milan told her to kill. That being said, never before had Milan given her so little background information on a target. For all she knew, he could've been some well-meaning, progressive diplomat. It wouldn't be the first time she was tasked with assassinating someone working in the name of good.
A wave of revulsion hit her, suddenly and all at once. It was happening more and more lately. Ethics never used to concern her. What had caused her to spontaneously develop a conscience? Nothing so dramatic as some life-altering event, and so it became difficult for her to explain, even to herself.
"You look tense," Alex commented, drawing her attention back to him. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"No," she answered, with unexpected honesty.
"Are you waiting for someone?"
It was the single most important question of the night. She could tell him yes, and go the rest of her life without ever seeing him again. He would move on, her target would die, and she would live to see another day. Soon enough she'd be in the exact same place all over again, sitting at a bar waiting for the world to end. Option a meant obeying the rules, playing it safe, preserving status quo.
Option b… what was option b?
"No… nobody in particular."
0o0o0o
It was cold outside, and Jane hadn't dressed for the weather. Why wear a coat when you're only going to end up getting blood on it? she'd thought at the beginning of the night, donning a slim black dress ideal for turning heads and hiding stains. That wasn't to say her assassinations were always bloody – she simply preferred to prepare for worst-case scenarios. As such, Jane currently had a thin knife hidden in the linings of her dress and a vial of poison masquerading as a crystal necklace… but no jacket. Within seconds of stepping out into the evening air, Alex wrapped his coat around her shoulders. She decided he looked even better in the white dress shirt.
While Alex spoke with the valet, Jane felt a rush of adrenaline hit her. She was finally doing it – throwing caution to the wind and defying all expectations. Milan would be furious. She had no idea what kind of punishment awaited her for abandoning the mandate. There'd never been any discussion around the consequences of such actions. After all these years, Milan probably thought her incapable of free-will.
Stop thinking about him. Jane refocused on the man before her, with the sandy hair and boyish charm. There was something impossible to classify about him. Rich men were almost invariably ugly and old or spoiled and obnoxious. She'd never met anyone in a high-class setting that she didn't immediately hate… until now.
Alex collected the keys and shot her a grin. "Shall we?"
She approached the sleek vehicle. Even knowing nothing about cars couldn't stop her from appreciating it. "Nice car."
"Do you like it? It's a rental. I don't know anything about cars. I can't even really drive standard."
She laughed at the candid response. "Is that true?"
"Why would I lie about that? It's terrible."
"I guess it's not the type of thing you know unless somebody teaches you."
"Yeah, but you wouldn't believe some of the stuff my uncle taught me. Hang gliding, base jumping – you ever seen those squirrel suits?"
"Oh… yes."
"All that and more. But I can't drive stick shift!"
They piled into the car over the sound of her laughter. Although it didn't particularly matter to her where they went, she felt obliged to ask, so Alex informed her that he'd been invited to a private party on the outskirts of town.
Attending a party just for fun? While the concept was unfamiliar, she had to admit it held some appeal – particularly with her strange new companion, who somehow felt more like an old friend than a complete stranger.
"It sounds like you and your uncle were close," she observed, trying to piece together something more substantial than a first impression.
"Close isn't really the right word," said Alex. "I don't think he was close with anyone."
"But you spent a lot of time with him."
"He took me in after my parents passed away," Alex explained. "Where did you grow up?"
She noted the subtle change in topic. "New York."
"Wow! One of my favourite cities."
"It's not all it's cracked up to be. Especially if you don't have money."
"Are you speaking from experience?"
They were getting into dangerous territory. Jane glanced out the window, watching the city traffic lights streak past them even as the bigger buildings began to thin out and the roads became longer. When Alex realized she wasn't going to answer, he asked another question.
"What are you doing in Amsterdam?"
"I'm here on business."
"Anything exciting?"
"You could say that." She shot him a devious smile. "Exciting… arousing… sensual business."
Alex's foot hit the break a little hard as they neared the next stop sign, and the whole car jerked as a result of it. "Er – sorry," he stammered, peering over at her with wide eyes. "Do you mean, like, that kind of business…?"
She gazed back at him innocently. Alex laughed, reaching up to rub away the blush settling across his cheeks.
"Stupid question," he said. "I don't mean to be impolite, I just – never would've guessed. You're not at all what I had imagined a prostitute would be like."
"I prefer the term 'courtesan'," she demurred. "And are you saying I'm the first you've ever met?"
"Well… that I know of," he confessed.
"Really? How are old are you, anyway?"
"How old are you?" he deflected.
She feigned outrage. "That's no question to ask a lady!"
They were closing in on a shipping yard lit with bright, towering lights fit for a stadium. Huge containers in primary colours were stacked in geometric formations reminiscent of leggo, while the odd crane stretched up into the sky between them. The whole thing felt oddly staged – there was an aesthetic touch to the arrangement that seemed out of place in such utilitarian stations. When Alex took a turn onto the road leading to the entrance, she realized it was their destination.
"We're going to a party in a shipping yard?"
"We are indeed."
"Highly questionable... how can I be sure you're not luring me to my death?"
"Technically you can't be," he said with a lopsided grin. "But what's life without a little risk?"
A man in a booth wordlessly held out his hand as their car slowed to a stop in front of the gate. Alex passed him an envelope. The serviceman examined its contents carefully, briefly holding it up beneath a green flashlight. With that, the gate slid open in front of them.
As it turned out, the guest parking lot was set up behind the first row of shipping containers, ensuring that nobody on the main road could observe the spectacle. A good number of people had arrived in cars, offering Jane her first clue into the scale of the event. She spotted a group of people climbing out of a taxi in evening gowns and animal masks. Am I dreaming?
Alex stepped out of the car and handed his keys off to a valet. Jane, for her part, sat momentarily frozen in awe at the unusual turn of events, starting when Alex opened her door and offered her a hand. "Come on," he said, intertwining her fingers with his. "I'll bet it's even better on the inside."
They were approaching a red shipping container outfitted with a white door, which had a large question mark painted on the front. Jane thought first of playing cards, then Alice in Wonderland.
"I can't believe I'm actually using my plus-one," said Alex. "I never get to use my plus-ones!"
"Who invited you to this?" Jane had to ask.
"Business associate. I'm sure we'll cross paths at some point or another."
The person behind the coat check counter was coated head to toe in gold paint. Alex and Jane both received stamps on their hands – question marks – before moving through the first door.
The room was bathed in red light, making it impossible to tell what colours people were actually wearing. On its walls, the art seemed in competition with its frames, which were all of the elaborately-carved sort one rarely saw outside of galleries housing renaissance paintings. Jane passed by a checkerboard optical illusion, then an exaggerated caricature of an anteater. In the corner, a wrought-iron spiral staircase waited to take them into the next level of the party.
"How can any of this possibly be legal?" she asked, craning her neck to stare at a passing waitress in a glowing pink tutu.
"Anything's legal when enough money is involved," said Alex.
In the next room over, they discovered the bar: a tropical aquarium spanning the better half of the room. Behind it, blue-haired triplets were mixing drinks that could've passed for science experiments.
"Good god!" Jane exclaimed, kneeling down to examine a passing school of clownfish. They scattered as soon as Jane's face loomed into sight, disappearing into an underwater ruin of Buckingham Palace. She felt Alex's shoulder brush hers as he joined her on the floor.
"Whoa." He extended a hand toward the glass.
"No, don't touch it! Haven't you ever seen Finding Nemo?"
"Finding Nemo?" he repeated. "Is it about fish? I don't know anything about fish."
She shot him a look of exasperation. "Do you know anything about anything?"
"No, not even a little," he responded, perfectly serious.
"Is that you down there, Alex darling?"
Both of them looked up at the same time to meet the gaze of the woman who'd called his name. She was dressed like a black cat, her short dark hair meticulously curled and styled. Long fake eyelashes sprung out from her face like fans.
"It is you!" She pounced on his back, wrapping her arms around him. "And who's this?"
"Jane Beatrix," said Jane, offering her hand. Before the woman could take it, a second person pounced, tripling the weight on Alex's back.
"Is dat Alex?"
"Agh!"
"Lotte!" The two women were hauled back onto their feet by a stately man in his thirties or forties. Alex was next, followed reluctantly by Jane. The man brushed Alex off.
"Alright there, kid?" He lifted a pipe to his lips, a flurry of bubbles escaping it. "We were wondering if you'd show up after what happened last night at the show. Nora even had us placing bets, the shark."
Nora curled a hand around his arm and batted her unreasonably long eyelashes at him. "Don't be sore because you lost, Jules."
"You really thought I wasn't coming?" Alex asked him.
"How's anyone supposed to know with you? Always disappearing and reappearing… mind you, now it makes sense," he said, eyeing Jane appreciatively. "Have we met, miss…?"
"Jane," she said. "No, we haven't."
"You'fe been holding out on us, hafe you?" Lotte broke in, clasping Jane's hands in hers. She had wide blue eyes and spoke with a Dutch accent. "You are so beautiful!"
"T-thank you," said Jane, slightly overwhelmed. "So are you."
Nora startled them all when she let out a shriek.
"Drinks!" she cried. "Neither of you have drinks! The horror…!"
Within minutes, Jane was equipped with an elaborate martini and led deeper still into the party, this time accompanied by Alex's high-octane "business associates". So this is what the big players in the business world do for fun, she thought, observing the partygoers grow drunker by the hour. Alex was the exception. Though he barely touched his drink, he remained unabashedly social, flitting from person to person and conversing at lengths with complete strangers. Business cards were exchanged on a couple occasions, which seemed odd, though not completely out of the ordinary. No, nothing truly struck Jane until she saw Alex pull a folded envelope out of his pocket and swiftly pass it into the hands of someone she was sure he hadn't so much as glanced at.
It was the first in a series of strange events that would eventually lead her to believe Alex might have almost as much to hide as she did.
Mere seconds after Alex finally finished his first drink, Lotte turned up next to him, guiding him over to a small bar set up in the corner where a new one was pressed into his hands. Lotte collected an identical glass and held hers up in a gesture of cheers, inspiring the two of them to tip their heads back and drink.
Something didn't feel right. Jane responded to the instinct by fighting her way back through the dense crowd to Alex's side. Inches away from him, she tripped, stumbling into his chest and relocating the contents of his glass all over the bar.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," said Jane, collecting a handful of napkins and pressing them down onto the wet surface. The liquid seeped into her skin, making it itch. Without a word, Alex wrapped an arm around her and led them over to the closest exit, which opened out onto a patio constructed atop one of the lower shipping containers.
"Sorry about that," said Jane, grateful for Alex's warm body against hers. The fresh air was nice, but it was still quite cold for mid-spring.
"Don't worry about it," said Alex. "I didn't really want another drink, anyway."
"You don't drink much, do you?"
"I mean… sometimes when I'm stressed, but I'm trying not to do that anymore, since… well, obvious reasons."
"Are you an alcoholic?"
"No," he said, perhaps a little too quickly. "I'd just hate to become one."
"Do you think you could? Become an alcoholic?"
"No…" he said again. "Um." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Does anyone, though? These types of things sneak up on you… I've just made myself sound like an alcoholic, haven't I?"
She laughed. "If anyone's an alcoholic it's me, so don't worry, you're off the hook. At least you try to stay off it. I… I don't even try."
She paused, imagining how Alex's impression of her would change in the wake of this new knowledge. She'd never put her drinking problem into such plain terms before. Said out loud, it occurred to her how uncomfortable she was with the idea. Both her parents were drug addicts – even from a young age, she'd grown used to seeing alcohol around the house, and it had always disgusted her… until she started drinking herself.
"The way I see it, addictions – they're the symptoms, not the illness. I'm sure you'd have an easier time finding a reason to stop drinking if you also sought to change your circumstances… though I know that's a lot easier said than done."
"Like earlier tonight," she said. At his puzzled look, she continued,
"When you asked me if I was waiting for someone… I was. But I decided not to stay because I didn't really want to be there, and I thought I should try doing something to make myself happy, for once."
"Did it work?"
She broke out into a wide smile; the brightest of the night. "Yes."
Alex fixed her with a smile of his own, giving her shoulders a squeeze. His voice was full of warmth. "I'm glad."
She hesitated. "Except, um – I'm still drinking…"
Alex waved her off as they started towards the doors once more.
"Details, details…"
0o0o0o
Their group passed through the dance floor and two more rounds of drinks before Nora's gambling habit forced them to depart, casino-bound. They piled into Alex's car at Jules's request, who took the wheel with no small amount of enthusiasm. It worked out perfectly that their one sober member was a car aficionado – less perfectly that he was also a speed freak.
"WOOO!" Nora roared, poking her head out the sunroof. Jules took them around a corner and executed a perfect drift, sending plumes of dust spurring out into the air behind them. Alex was clutching Jane's leg as if holding on for dear life, pale-faced and clammy.
"If you're going to throw up, could I please ask you to roll down the window?"
Alex grimaced. "I won't throw up."
"Jules, Alex is dying," Lotte reported from her place in the backseat.
"Oh, he can handle it," Jules shot back, pressing his foot against the gas pedal.
100 km… 120… 140… 160…
Alex's cheeks puffed up.
Jane made a dash for the button on the door, rolling down Alex's window right in time for him to pitch forward and shove his head through the opening.
"Ew," said Lotte. She reached over to pat him on the back. "We're almosd dere! … Aren'd we?"
Slowing down some, Jules slammed on the brakes and drifted around another corner, pulling up in front of the casino less than a minute later. Alex was dragged back into the car by a less-than-sympathetic Lotte, who lightly slapped his cheek.
"Whad is wrong wid you?" she demanded. "It's your car, you shouldt be usedt to a little speedt!"
Jules wrenched the door open and wrapped a hand around his arm, pulling him onto his feet. "Oh, dear…"
Alex scrubbed his face with his hands. "I'm fine. Really."
"You're sure about that?" he asked, patting him on the shoulder.
They moved into the lobby with Nora in the lead. The ceiling was three stories high and two staircases hugged the rounded walls on either side. At the bar, Jane insisted on Alex drinking two tall glasses of water before anything else. He was looking quite a bit better than he had in the car, but his skin had yet to regain its colour, and he'd started acting inexplicably loopy.
"You are a saint," Alex told Jane as she took the empty glass from his hand and set it down atop the bar.
"And you can't hold your liquor. No wonder you're worried about becoming an alcoholic – two drinks and you're down for the count. Are you embarrassed?"
"Very embarrassed," he assured her, shaking his head to try and refocus his vision. "Extremely so."
"Well, don't beat yourself up over it," she carried on lightly, brushing a thumb across his cheekbone. He glanced up to find her face inches from his, examining him carefully. "Your pupils are dilated."
"You have a freckle on your nose. No, wait, two. Three… four…"
"It's just the one," she assured him. "I'm guessing you can't see straight?"
His glaze floated up to meet hers once more. High as a kite.
She sighed. "Tell the truth: did you take anything tonight?"
"You were with me the whole time," Alex pointed out. "Watching my every move, remember?"
"So you noticed…"
"I did. You didn't."
"You were watching me?"
"Trying not to stare," he corrected.
"Oh. Is there something on my dress?" she asked playfully, turning to inspect herself and tugging at the tight fabric. Her back was exposed, revealing smooth, unmarred skin.
Alex covered his eyes. "Stop…"
She sidled up next to him, grasping his hands and pulling them back. "Do you still feel sick?"
"Just…" He blinked. "Weird."
"Maybe somebody tried to date-rape you. You're very pretty."
He groaned. "Pretty?"
"It's a compliment."
When Alex started rubbing his face again, Jane bit her lip.
"Are you sure you're alright? Maybe we should…"
"Are you two still here?" Lotte broke in, linking arms with the two of them. They were reluctantly drawn away from the bar, though not before Jane ordered herself another drink.
"Five."
"Hit me."
"Ten."
"Hit me."
"Twelve."
"Hit me."
"Twenty."
"H–"
"Alex!" Jules hissed.
Alex slapped a hand down onto the table, wrought with conviction.
"Hit me!"
"… Twenty-one!"
Everyone around the table cheered.
"What the hell? How'd you do that?"
"I had a feeling," Alex told him, releasing the table and wobbling a little. Across the room, Nora was raking in an armful of poker chips. When Jules glanced back, she stuck her tongue out at him. Lotte's ducked out from behind her.
"Nora is rich!"
"Yeah? Well so is Alex!" he shouted back, collecting Alex's poker chips. An impromptu competition formed between the two dysfunctional teams. Convinced that Alex was a lucky charm, Jules forced him to roll all the dice and make every call. The wins reinforced this belief while the losses rolled off like water on a feather. Leading the opposing team, Nora displayed a similar disconnect from reality. Between the two of them, they lost nearly ten thousand euros in less than two hours. It was Lotte who finally got them away from the tables, suggesting they return to the party.
Alex shook his head. "Bit too much for me right now… I might have to turn in."
"But it's only three!" Nora protested. "Nonsense. We'll go somewhere else. Lotte?"
"I know a place!"
And so the crusade continued, this time into the heart of Centrum, where golden streetlights and neon signs lit their path. Lotte's place turned out to be an upscale club called Publik. A red velvet rope kept the waiting customers in line, though Lotte didn't spare them a glance. The five of them marched in through the back door with little more than a flash of cash and a kiss on the cheek from Nora.
Inside, the group scattered. It took a moment for Jane to adjust to the sudden change in volume and light. Her hand found its way into Alex's, and then the two of them found their way to a table tucked away in a corner, away from all the noise.
"You don't want to dance?" asked Alex.
"Maybe in a bit."
"I'm sorry I haven't been more fun. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Of course, Alex actually had a pretty good idea of what was wrong with him, he just didn't want to say it out loud for fear of the questions it would raise. Jane, too, had long since come to the conclusion that somebody had given something to Alex, though it was unclear what that thing was. She wanted to believe it was merely the result a poorly thought-out joke, like slipping party drugs into a friend's drink, only he wasn't demonstrating any of the behaviours normally associated with those types of drugs. The only thing that seemed at all feasible was some sort of tranquilizer. He was acting stronger than he really felt, she was sure of it.
"I'm having the time of my life," she insisted, curling his arm around her and settling into his chest.
"If only I could sit back and enjoy it," he mumbled after a moment.
"What do you mean?"
"What?"
"What did you just say?"
"Um… oh. It's this thing I keep thinking about… letting go. I can't let go. But I can't hold on, either."
At Jane's blank stare, Alex glanced away. "I'm not making sense…"
"No… no, you are. Go on."
"You don't have to humour me. I don't know what I'm saying."
"I'm not humouring you. I want to hear it."
"Okay… well, lately I've been feeling…" He leaned over, pressing his palms into his hands. "Ugh. No, seriously, please tell me to shut up."
"I won't. Confess!"
"It's… normally, when something is about to happen, like, I'm about to die, or something, I always know, and, you know, I do my best to avoid it." He dragged his hands back to stare out into the dark, writhing mass of the dance floor. "And it hasn't been like that lately. I just… don't get scared anymore. Of anything."
She wanted to ask how often Alex felt like he was about to die, but something was holding her back from responding: the sheer incredulity of having this complete stranger put her own feelings into words better than she could.
"It's weird. I mean, fear is born out of resistance, right? Resistance to loss, or… something. So does that mean I don't care about anything? How can I not care about anything? Does that make me depressed? Because I'm not sad."
"I don't think you have to be sad to be depressed."
"But I'm – it doesn't make sense. Why would I be depressed?"
"You tell me."
"I can't." He slumped back against the vinyl cushions. "I don't understand it."
"I take it you used to feel different?"
"I don't know," he muttered. "I really don't. I've never been one to keep track of the way I feel."
"Didn't you say you're an orphan?"
"Uh… yeah. Why?"
"What about the rest of your family?"
"They're… um. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you're being invited to these amazing parties, and you're obviously well-off. So that leaves personal relationships. Are you married?"
"Married? No."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"You're asking me this now?"
"You didn't make it my business until now. How about friends? A best friend, perhaps?"
"Best friend…" he repeated. "I used to have a best friend."
"What happened?"
"We lost touch."
"Why?"
"I moved away."
"So look him up."
"It's…" He gazed at her, slightly awed. "It's not that simple?"
"Why did you phrase that like a question?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything."
"Evidently."
Jane could tell that for all his claims to ignorance, Alex was unquestionably intelligent. She had to wonder why he should be having any trouble developing personal relationships. Not only was he successful and good-looking, but charismatic and outgoing, too. His business associates seemed to enjoy having him around, if their persistent attempts to keep him out all night were anything to go off of. He had no problem talking to strangers, and as far as she could tell, he was relatively straight-laced. So what was it?
Alex nestled his chin into the crook of her shoulder and closed his eyes. "You would make a great life-coach. Will you be my life-coach?"
Jane tried to imagine herself in the role. It sounds like you need to be more assertive, Paying Customer A. So your boss isn't recognizing your hard work? Easy: decapitate him. Nobody needs a head they're not using.
"Trust me, you do not want me to be your life-coach."
"Sure I do. You can advise me on life things, and I… can get you into more cool parties."
"When you put it that way…"
He laughed, breaking out into coughing near the end. Jane ran her fingers through his hair, which seemed to have a soothing effect. He relaxed into the touch.
"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."
"Do you normally leave clubs without dancing?"
His eyes snapped open. "Oh, come on."
"Do you?"
"No…"
"Alright then."
She stood up and spun around, extending a hand out toward him. With one final beseeching look, Alex staggered to his feet. By that point it seemed ridiculous to continue pretending everything was normal, but he still hadn't admitted to anything, and Jane really didn't want the night to end. So she played along for a little longer, shimmying onto the dance floor with Alex close in tow. As they merged with the collective heartbeat of the crowd, Jane did her best to ignore the nagging reminder that this wasn't really her life, and that in a sense she was cheating with this bout of escapism; cheating with no real hope of getting away with it.
So enjoy it, she told herself. If it's only for one night… be present. You'll probably never see this man again.
Though she desperately wanted to.
0o0o0o
"Excuse me, do you know where the–"
"I don't work here," Tom snapped. The woman hastily apologized before moving down the aisle, leaving Jane and Tom alone once more.
Jane was examining the shelves for a specific brand of tomato sauce. "Why does that keep happening to you?"
"I think it's the clothes," said Tom with a withering look. He was wearing a white button-down tucked into some slacks, complete with a pair of brown loafers. "That, and no one can believe someone like you would actually be seen out and about with someone like me."
"I think it's those shoes, actually," Jane told him. Tom grabbed a can of no-name tomato sauce off the shelf and shook it.
"Is this the one you're looking for? Let's keep moving."
"Just wait. There's one that I like. This one." She moved to pull down a jar of seasoned pasta sauce. It was on the top shelf, forcing her to really reach.
Someone was moving towards them from the opposite end of the aisle, footsteps echoing louder and louder as they approached. Right when Jane's fingers closed around the jar, a weight caused her to stumble, sending three jars toppling down from their spots. The person had bumped into her.
"Excuse–"
He broke off mid-sentence. Jane had caught one jar in each hand and the third on her head, freezing her in place. She glanced at Tom. Help.
Tom snatched the jar off her head, shoving it back on the shelf.
"Holy crap, did you just catch that one your head?" asked the newcomer, a teenage boy no older than sixteen. He'd gone all starry-eyed after taking one look at Jane's face.
"Go away," she ordered.
"But–"
"What she said!" Tom broke in angrily. "And before you ask, I don't know, because I don't work here!"
"So you don't know which aisle the bagels are in?"
"No, I don't know which aisle the bloody – wait, no, we just bought bagels. Aisle 7."
The teenager thanked them and went on his way. Jane shot him an amused look.
"Short-tempered and altruistic," she marveled. "A very strange combination."
"Please, carry on with your story."
"I'll tell you the rest another time. It's too much for one sitting."
"But I have so many questions!"
"Another time," Jane insisted.
They moved to the end of the aisle, picking up canned beans and two bags of spaghetti before they were done. Jane and Eve were sharing a room at a hotel a couple blocks from the hospital, with Wolf keeping guard next door. They'd outfitted their kitchenette with a hotplate and a twenty-year-old cooler courtesy of Tom, which they used to store a bit of fresh produce.
Jane opened the cooler, examining the layer of grime stuck to the inside. "It's like we're camping."
"I've never been camping," said Eve.
"… me neither."
Meanwhile, Ben remained stationed outside Alex's hospital room. The final two members of K-unit were placed with Tom and Liam, who were considered the most at-risk for an attack. Alex's rationale was simple:
"He hasn't gone after you yet, and you're the perfect hostage."
"I could take him."
"Tom, metaphorically speaking, you are the runt of the litter. And you're wearing loafers."
"Leave my shoes out of this!"
"It's true, mate," said Eagle, leaning back against the wall. Eagle was a tall, fair-haired man in his early thirties, dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans. "You're prime hostage material if I've ever seen it. And I have… many times."
"What kind of soldier wears jeans?" Tom demanded, mostly out of spite. "None of you know what you're talking about! Wouldn't he be more likely to go after Jane and Eve? They're girls!"
There was a tangible shift in the energy of the room. Closest to the door stood Snake, a Scottsman with dark hair and a long, rounded face. He shook his head in obvious disapproval.
"Sexist."
"Terribly sexist."
Tom's cheeks flamed. "Dammit."
"They're trained professionals. You're just trying to divert everyone's attention away from the fact that you are the weakest link," Alex pointed out.
"Aren't you the weakest link? You're bedridden, for heaven's sake!"
Three days had passed since Alex had first woken up. "Bedridden and still more likely to survive an assault than you."
"Right. Other than assaults by fourteen-year-old girls…"
Ben dissolved into snickering.
Alex sighed. "I'll never live it down, will I?"
"Nope."
"So here's what I think we should do," Eagle piped up. "Snake and I will stay with Tom and the boy, Wolf can stick with Jane and the girl, and Fox can stay here. Alright, Fox?"
Ben nodded. "Sounds good to me."
"I really don't think–"
"Tom," Alex cut him off. He was deadly serious. "You made the decision to keep Liam safe. That's what this is: a security measure. Don't fight it."
If only the heightened security didn't also have to come accompanied by the reminder that he was completely defenseless. Worse still… in any given confrontation, he was the bruise on the fruit; the part that either got sliced off at the get-go or left to turn the rest rotten.
Alex was reading his mind, if his look of growing concern was anything to go off of. "Look, I need your help. You and Liam are basically the only link to a normal life that Eve has. If we can't offer her some semblance of stability in these next few weeks, she could very well go off the deep end."
That was something Tom had observed firsthand: Eve's newfound obsession with killing Milan. It wasn't an entirely unreasonable response, considering the circumstances. Eve had spent the last eight years of her life under the impression that Milan had rescued her after her mother's death, only to find out from Jane that it was far more likely Milan had killed her mother himself. Why he'd chosen Eve had yet to be determined, though Jane was convinced that there was some reason behind it. For the time being, they had few answers to offer the inconsolable girl, who'd taken up Liam's hobby of drawing surreal imagery, albeit with a much gorier twist.
"How on earth do you expect me to be able to help her? First of all, she hates me."
"She hates everyone."
"Second of all, I can't turn my back without wondering if she's about to shove a knife through my spine!"
"She has no reason to–"
"Third of all, she keeps angrily spitting at me in Russian! Has she been doing that to you? I have no idea what she's saying and Liam thinks it's hilarious! I'm trying to establish myself as an authoritarian figure in his life and she's–"
Ben started laughing again.
"You lot think this is funny, too, do you?"
"Of course," said Eagle with a snort. "Aren't you a school teacher? How on earth did you get tied up in this mess?"
"Why don't you ask my best friend, Alex Rider?"
"It's not my fault," Alex protested. "How was I supposed to know any of this would happen?"
"Well, given your penchant for women that try to kill you–"
"You told him about that?" asked Ben. Alex gave the slightest shake of his head as if to say abort, ABORT –
"Of course he told me about that! How do you … wait. Are we even talking about the same–"
"We are getting really off topic," Alex hastily cut in with a forced laugh.
"You're not telling me it happened again?"
Tom frowned at him. "Sabina?"
Grinning: "Try Mona."
Alex covered his face. "Oh, God…"
Eagle erupted into peals of laughter. "I remember this story!"
"Ben!" Alex snapped. "What the hell? You told Eagle? How – how do you even know about that?"
"Aziz told everyone!"
"That – dammit Aziz…!"
"So what's the…"
"Just forget it Tom–"
"Aw, come on, Alex, you never tell him anything…" Ben said in a sing-song voice. "The poor bloke deserves to hear about some of your… haha… hahaha…!"
"Tell me the story already!"
"Okay, okay… so last year, Alex was in Belgium with another agent called Aziz–"
"Ben!"
"–and Alex meets some woman named Mona who almost derails the mission entirely. That right, Alex?"
"She was…!" He'd turned bright red. "Okay, if it had been any of you…"
"She was smoking hot, we're sure," said Eagle, full of mirth.
"Aziz catches on pretty quick, but Alex…"
"That is a lie. Aziz was jealous!"
"Alex is ready to abandon the whole mission…"
"Exaggerations!"
"He and Aziz are staying in this hotel room, but apparently Mona wants a little more privacy, so she convinces him to get another room – the penthouse suite, apparently…"
"And you did it?" Tom exclaimed.
Alex picked up his pillow and buried his face in it.
"Oh he did it alright," Ben confirmed. "Paid for it on credit. And the story goes that Alex and Mona are halfway through the deed when Mona turns on him. Only Alex isn't exactly in any position to resist…"
Tom met him with a blank stare. "Wait… did she…"
"With fishman's knots."
"You let some woman you barely knew tie you to the–"
"Alex will try anything once, won't you, Alex…?" Ben said slyly.
"What does that–"
"Ben, shut up–"
"Back to the story – so Mona has Alex right where she wants him, he's helpless, and… you know what, I never quite did hear the details. Why don't you fill us in?"
Alex was glaring at him. "Mona hated MI6. She knew who I was and wanted me dead. The end."
"You suck at telling stories, you know that?"
"But… how did you escape?" Tom wanted to know. "If you were tied to the bed…"
Ben sat down on the end of the bed and tugged at Alex's toes beneath the sheet. "Big reveal – how did you escape? Aziz couldn't figure it out."
A moment of silence fell over the hospital room as Tom and the better part of K-unit waited for Alex to reply. Alex looked away.
"I was never really trapped," he said quietly. "I sabotaged one of the knots."
Ben leaped to his feet, pointing at Eagle triumphantly.
"I knew it!" he cried with a brash grin. "Ten pounds!"
Eagle reluctantly pulled out osme cash.
"You placed bets?" said Alex incredulously.
"Of course!"
And maybe Tom should've been laughing, but it wasn't the least bit funny to him that Alex had taken that sort of precaution in such an intimate setting. It spelled a definitive lack of faith in a woman's affections. Even then, he didn't fully trust her, thought Tom in dismay. This is even worse than I thought.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door eased back to reveal a familiar, yet wholly unexpected face: Carol Flowers.
"Hello," she called warily. "I'm looking for Mr… Beckett."
"Wrong ro–"
"Mrs. Flowers," Tom broke in quickly, cutting Ben off. Alex leaned forward to meet her gaze with wide-eyed disbelief. She looked similarly overwhelmed, swallowing audibly.
"Um," she began, "may I come in?"
"Of course," said Alex. He cleared his throat to signal the three soldiers, who shuffled out the door one by one. Tom followed suite, shooting Alex a thumbs-up behind Carol's back. Soon enough, they were alone.
"Are you doing alright? Biddy said you were…"
Alex waved her off. "I'm a quick healer. What can I do for you?"
Since entering the room, she seemed to be holding her breath. All at once she released it, dropping onto the end of his bed and throwing her face into her hands.
"I feel horrible," she said hoarsely. "Just horrible."
"Er – why?"
"You were there, weren't you?! With Bridget, when they…"
Suddenly Alex remembered the video. "Oh… right…"
"Bridget speaks very highly of you. James and I, we – we didn't know what to think. We still don't. Who are you? And why – why did you do what you did…?"
"Mrs. Flowers, your daughter…" he began cautiously, "Your daughter is a thirteen-year-old girl. What do you mean, why did I do it? Isn't it obvious?"
"You're in the hospital…!"
"And she is alive," he pointed out with a smile. "Brilliant, isn't it?"
Carol's eyes welled up with tears. "I'm so sorry – so sorry for misjudging you. If only I had known…"
"I'm not looking for an apology, Mrs. Flowers. You couldn't have known. But if you want to thank me, there is one thing that you could do."
She nodded. "Anything."
"Make more time for Bridget. She misses you."
Tears slid down Carol's weathered cheeks. She screwed her eyes up tight. "I'm a terrible mother, aren't I?"
"Couldn't tell you."
Forcing a laugh, she attempted to scrub the sadness from her eyes. "I just keep thinking to myself, what if… well, what if you hadn't been there? James and I, we would've… we would've…!"
"Please don't cry…"
"I'm sorry, I can't seem to c-control myself. It's terrible, bursting into your room like this after what you did – and I – have I even properly thanked you yet?"
"You don't need to thank me–"
"Nonsense, utter nonsense! You saved her – my b-baby…" She snatched up his hands, a blubbering mess. "T-thank you – thank you so much…!"
"You're… you're welcome," he said, slightly at a loss.
"How can I possibly repay you?!"
"You really don't have to–"
"Nonsense!"
On the other side of the door, Tom snuck a glance through the narrow rectangular window. He stuffed a fist in his mouth.
Ben frowned. "What? What's happening? Who is that woman, anyway?"
"She's crying in his lap," said Tom with no undue amount of wonder. "Who would've ever imagined?"
"Isn't that Carol Flowers? The politician?" asked Snake. "Thought I recognized her."
"Bridget's mother…" Ben concluded. "That little girl. The one that visits Alex."
"The one from the paper?" asked Eagle.
"Right you are."
"Also known as Alex's favourite student," Tom explained. "Carol Flowers never trusted him – now she's thanking him for saving Bridget's life. It's about time somebody actually thanked him for something. Lord knows all I do is yell at him…"
Nobody could deny that Alex seemed more upbeat after Carol's visit, though his good mood dimmed when Eve arrived with Jane and Liam. The two of them didn't exactly get along – in fact, Eve regularly lashed out at him, both verbally and physically.
Whenever Alex asked her to do anything, she'd sneer, "I don't have to listen to you." At which point Jane would smack her upside the head and send her slinking into submission. Tom had no way of explaining the hostility. If anyone should hate anyone, it seemed to him like it ought to be the other way around. Eve carried herself with a restless fury that set everyone's teeth on edge. She refused to apologize to Alex. She refused to apologize to anyone. He sensed there was more psychology to it than blind hatred.
As the days dragged on and Alex started to regain his strength, it become more and more difficult to keep him off his feet. Tom arrived on three separate occasions to find Alex's room empty, sending him on wild goose chases down the hospital hallways to find him. The first time he'd torn his stiches, and had to be wheeled back to his room on a stretcher after some patchwork. It was obvious that despite everyone voicing their concerns, he had yet to fully wrap his head around the gravity of his situation. Closer to the end of the two-week mark, he was walking around without so much as a limp, though that wasn't to discredit the bucket of painkillers they still had him on. Regardless, Tom was one part impressed and two parts nervous, for Alex was still in no condition to fight, and nobody had any leads on Milan.
That didn't stop Eve. She challenged him every chance she got, regularly running ahead of the group to get to Alex first. Too often Tom found himself jamming his arms between them, angrily forcing the girl back. For his part, Alex took it all in stride – it wasn't until a few days before his discharge that he finally snapped.
"According to this piece of paper, you're recovering nicely," she observed from where she was standing at the end of his bed, examining his hospital report. Alex was reading a book.
"What'd you expect?"
"I don't know," she muttered, fingering the corner of the page. "Some sort of infection, maybe? A hospital virus?"
"Not my style."
"So if you're feeling better, why don't you get up and fight me?"
He flipped the page. "No."
"Afraid you'll really die this time?"
"Maybe."
"Liar. You're too much of a fool to be scared. Come on – that's what you do, isn't it? You fight people and you win. So fight me!"
"I said no."
She grit her teeth. "The only reason I'm sticking around is because I know Milan will eventually show up to kill you himself. You know that, right? You all think I'm going to go back to school and live a normal life, but it doesn't work like that."
"Whatever you say."
Alex's casual dismissal was quick to infuriate her. "You think you're so great. Alex Rider. Someday I'll take off your head."
He finally glanced up. "What on earth is your problem?"
"You!"
"Me? I haven't done anything to you! We hadn't even met before you stabbed me with a kitchen knife! For heaven's sake, how much longer is this going to go on far?"
"Fight me!"
"I can't."
"You're lying."
"I've already torn my stitches once. If I do it again, the nurses will have me confined to my room."
"Fight me, damn it!"
"Where the hell is Jane? Go find Jane."
Eve climbed onto the end of his bed and took a sudden swing at him with the clipboard. He had to scramble to catch it in time. The book slid off the bed and hit the ground with a dull smack.
Eve pressed her weight into the clipboard in an attempt to overpower him, but Alex was stronger: he brought a knee up to knock her off balance, then sent her crashing to the floor with a jab to the stomach. She landed in a crouch, springing up to retaliate. This time Alex grasped her wrists and twisted, drawing a cry from the girl. The effect was immediate: he let go, and less than a second later she'd whacked him across the face with the clipboard.
Alex pressed a hand to his stinging cheek, glaring at her. "Ow."
Eve stumbled back a step, breathing hard. She released the clipboard and fell into a combat stance, jarring him with memories from the day she first attacked him.
"Come on," she hissed.
"Why do you want me to fight you so badly?"
"I'm never going to be able to kill Milan if I don't surpass him first. That means surpassing you!"
"Have you been attacking Jane like this?"
Of course she hadn't; she wouldn't dare. Eve reached back to push the hair out of her face. "Don't you want to hurt me?"
The question brought forth an unexpected surge of dismay. "What? No."
"But I…" She trailed off, surprised. "You still don't believe I'd actually kill you, huh?"
"Well, you did promise to stop trying–"
"People lie. I lie. I lie all the time, so if I were you, I'd get it out of my head that there's any hope of reforming me, or whatever it is you plan on doing!"
"I'm not planning on doing anything!" Alex snapped. "I haven't the slightest interest in reforming you! The only reason I'm still dealing with you at all is because of Jane!"
"Jane is weak!"
"Jane is not weak. Weak is choosing to perpetuate the cycle of violence instead of taking a good long look in the mirror. You could learn a thing or two from her if you weren't so hard-headed."
Eve snatched up the clipboard and made another dive at him. Instead of catching it, Alex held up his pillow and softened the blow. She hit him a second time, then a third, harder and harder until eventually she ran out of energy and allowed the clipboard to slip from her hands and onto the blanket. Alex slowly eased the pillow away from his face, peaking out at her warily.
Eve was standing over him with narrowed eyes.
"You're just scared," she growled.
"Yeah," he said. "I am."
"Fear is for the weak."
"Then I guess I'm weak."
She fell to her knees and rearranged herself so that she was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed. It was an immediate turnaround from the combative to the child-like; something that Alex was struggling to get used to. One minute Eve was a threat to his livelihood; the next, little more than an overzealous teenage girl. The change was enough to make his head spin.
"From the way those soldiers talk about you, I expected you to have more guts."
"Things change."
"You mean you've changed."
He'd been trying not to acknowledge it, but there was nowhere to run anymore. "Seems like it."
"Why?"
He took a moment to consider the question. "It's different when you have something to lose."
Eve gazed across at him unblinkingly. "Liam's said that before, too."
"He's not making it up. Liam knows what it's like to find a new reason for living after years of hopelessness. When I first met Liam, he was almost as angry as you."
Eve fiddled with the blanket on the bed, scowling. "Neither of you understand."
"Understand what?"
"You didn't know your mother. And Liam didn't know his…"
Alex couldn't help but think of Jack at the mention of a mother. He hadn't talked to her in months.
"If you've never had anything to lose, how could you possibly understand how it feels to lose someone?"
The conversation was taking a turn for the emotional, he could sense it. Did that mean Eve was finally going to stop treating him like an enemy?
"When something like that happens to the only person in the world that matters to you… you stop thinking about having a normal life," she whispered, aiming her angry gaze at the floor.
"You mean you stop thinking that you deserve one," said Alex. Her head snapped up to look at him.
"Stop it," she ground out. "Stop pretending like you get it. You don't!"
"I'm not pretending to get anything," he said irritably. "I'm only speculating. Something tragic happened to you; something that never should've happened, and I can see how much you want to spill blood over it. All I want to tell you is that even if I haven't been down that road myself, I've met more than enough people who have to know how it ends. And it doesn't end well. Though I'm sure you figured that out a long time ago."
Eve's grip tightened around the blanket.
"Here's the thing: whether you like it or not, you aren't alone – you're surrounded by people who could easily end up getting hurt if you don't take responsibility for your actions."
"Do I look like I care?"
"No, you don't. But deep down, underneath all that anger and hate, I know that you do."
She let out a noise of frustration. "There you go again, acting like you know it all! Remember the last time you thought you had me pegged? I almost murdered you in cold blood. I would've left you there to bleed out and rot–"
"Would've, could've, should've–"
"If I had my way, you'd be–"
"Dead, yeah, I heard you the first hundred times."
When she raised her hand, he wasted no time in seizing her shoulders and throwing her face-first off the side of the bed. She landed in a heap with a sharp gasp and a hiss of pain, rolling onto her knees and making a dash for the other end of the room.
Alex leaned over to collect his book off, giving it a quick brush over.
"Damn it," she cursed, touching her split lip. "What the hell?"
He opened his book and resumed reading, telling her simply,
"You asked for it."
0o0o0o
A/N: Ya'll were probably expecting Alex to teach Jane the meaning of life in Amsterdam part II, and in the end… all they did was party. lol
Sorry this took so long! Finals + camping + moving = not a good combination for writing. I really appreciate all the kind words! Some of you seem to think you might be annoying me with the attention? Ha. Ha. Ha! Not in a million years! It puts the pressure on me to write when I have the time, and it makes me really happy to know you guys care! I really do appreciate it more than you know!
Anyway, when I got back from my trip, I fast-tracked this baby big time, but it still took me a while because of the messy end-of-semester circumstances. Basically, I'm living on a farm with my boyfriend's family for the summer and working 9-5 at an office, so I'm not going to have as many opportunities to stay up late… which is when I do most of my writing, since it's the only time nobody bothers me! But I will still do my best to write at every opportunity, believe me!
goodisgood: tried to message you but I don't think you have pm's enabled! In response to your questions: there is one last arc left in this story (jane & eve's fate/milan vs. alex) but I plan to wrap it up once it concludes, along with all the loose ends. Hard to say how long it'll take me to write it. As for Life's a Beach, I've only really had the time to consistently update one story these last few months, but I'll try to get working on it again this summer since that one's pretty close to its conclusion.
EDIT: can't believe I almost forgot to include this - the thrilling conclusion to Maddy's Math Saga! I PASSED CALCULUS WITH EXACTLY FIFTY PERCENT! BOO YAH!
Next chapter: "Has he been arrested? Kidnapped? Charged with murder?"