For prompt 2: Failed rescue attempt

Thanks to guelphbeegirl for looking this over. Any mistakes are mine


Alex sprinted down the empty corridor of the school, barely catching himself before crashing into a wall as he skirted around a corner. He didn't care if the guards discovered him now. His own safety had become second priority.

They had discovered the snipers outside. Alex hadn't been fast enough to knock the last guard out before she had warned her colleagues over her walkie-talkie and had thereby lost the privilege of having the time to sneak around.

Alex knew their employer by now – had spied on him for the eight of the thirteen hours his goons had barricaded themselves in the school – and he didn't take threats well. He wouldn't care if special forces went in with orders to kill, he would get his revenge first.

Alex had maybe moments. He slid around the last corner and didn't slow down when he caught sight of the guards outside the door. Now he just needed to get past them before–

Bang.

Alex tripped and nearly knocked into the surprised guards. Alex barely noticed as they grabbed his arms, too focused on the door behind them. The walls muffled the gunshot, but his ears were ringing anyway.

Later he wouldn't remember whether he fought the guards off or if they were the ones who dragged him inside. The next time Alex blinked, he was standing inside the classroom – the guards were gone from his side – and discovered what he already knew: he was too late.

A man stood with his back to Alex, a row of desks separating them. He turned around and gave Alex a flat stare. Standing in the middle of the classroom, dressed in a thin leather jacket and a pressed shirt, the man could have passed for a teacher had he not been holding a gun at his side. His face reminded Alex of a winter lake; cold, still, and depthless.

They stared at each other for a long moment. The man didn't speak. No evil monologues, no explanations, no threats. Slowly the man raised the gun and pointed it at himself.

Alex turned away a second before the man pulled the trigger. He had no wish of seeing what followed a second time.

His eyes landed briefly on the small girl lying on the floor a few steps away from her kidnapper, arms spread as if looking for a hug. His body lurched forwards, and Alex stumbled to the wall feeling queasy and clutched it vain for help as he dry-heaved.

Afterwards, he slid down against it until he sat on the floor and pressed his hands hard against his eyes as if this would remove the picture of the girl edged into his mind. It didn't matter if any of the guards had come back for him then, he wouldn't have moved.

Time passed, though Alex only noticed when someone touched his shoulder, startling him, and looked up into the face of a concerned paramedic. The woman asked him a few questions that Alex thought he answered but couldn't remember, before giving him a quick check-over to ensure he was in no danger of keeling over. Alex was completely fine, something he was sure he told the paramedic as well, though the woman ignored him and instead helped Alex to his feet. She was kind enough not to say anything when Alex swayed on his feet, only offered a helping arm and a steady presence.

Alex needed something steady because everything around him was moving too fast. He looked around, confused, as the paramedic led him out into the corridor, keeping her body firmly between Alex and the team working on the other side of the classroom.

There were armed people dressed in police uniforms standing around, speaking into radios or with each other. Something about their stance was familiar though and made Alex suspect they might be secret service. They must have secured the building without Alex noticing.

None of them as much as glanced in his direction as he was guided past them, and much sooner than he expected, he was sitting on the steps leading up to the school's main entrance, clutching a plastic cup with water, while the kind paramedic went over to have a quick word with her colleagues.

Two officers led a small group of red-eyed students out of the same door as Alex had just come from, passed him on the steps, and walked towards the waiting ambulances for check-ups of their own. He had known the other students had been locked inside the gym at the other side of the school, but his mission had not included them, and he had not seen any of them before now. They wore the same grey uniform Alex had on and must have been around the same age as well, yet he couldn't have felt more removed from them as a swarm of concerned parents surrounded them as soon as the group crossed the cordon.

Alex accidentally crumbled the cup in his hands and spilt water all over his knees.

A stretcher rolled past next, a white sheet covering the small body, and Alex couldn't look away. A curly-haired woman jumped the cordon, surprising the officer standing guard, and ran for the stretcher. A man followed her, though he caught her arm and made her stop, mumbling something too low for Alex to hear. He didn't have to know what the man said to know who they were. The woman had the same dark curls as the girl lying still under the sheet, and it was clear even from the distance that Ann was – had been – the spitting image of the man.

Alex watched numbly as Ann's mom broke down and fell to her knees, sobbing loudly, while her partner clutched her arm tightly, face whiter than Ann's had been after death. Alex wasn't sure if Ann's father was comforting her or keeping himself from fainting. Another officer came up to them and spoke softly, trying to get them to go back behind the cordon, but her words fell on deaf ears.

A familiar frame blocked Alex' view before he could see anything more; the paramedic was back.

"We want to have you in for a small check-up if that's okay?" the paramedic asked with a kind smile.

"I'm fine," Alex said automatically. His voice sounded dead, even to his own ears.

"It's just protocol," the paramedic reassured. "Just to be sure we haven't missed anything. Do you have someone you can call to meet you at the hospital?"

Alex blinked and it took him a moment to process the question before he pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen, uncertain how to continue.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up at the paramedic. The woman was still smiling, and her words were patient when she said, "You can give me their number, and I'll make sure they'll come to the hospital to pick you up. What do you say?"

Alex nodded and dully recited Jack's phone number. At least he didn't need to think to get that one right; he had had to use it too often after Ian's death.

A few minutes later, he sat in the back seat of a car on the way to the closest hospital staring blindly at the scenery passing by in a blur. He had no idea whose car it was or who was driving and didn't have the energy to turn his head to look.

If he had said 'yes' the first time MI6 asked for his help to infiltrate the building – and not dragged his feet until they had resorted to blackmailing him – would he had gotten Ann out in time? Would she be happily clinging to her parents now, like the others? Would her parents have cried tears of joy instead of anguish as they planned a party and not a funeral?

If Alex had been a little less selfish, would Ann still be alive?

He didn't know. But the uncertainty of the 'what if" did not help him feel less guilty.

Every time Blunt called on him, Alex made a choice between life and death.

And this time Alex had not chosen to point the metaphorical gun at himself, instead he had pointed it at an innocent eight-year-old girl and pulled the trigger.


Themes: Off-screen child death (OC), implied suicide (OC antagonist), implied/referenced violence, survivor's guilt