Falls


Crawley only had time to inhale in shock as he watched Alex Rider miss the jump to the flagpole. The boy fell fourteen stories. There was no surviving that. Crawley felt a stab of guilt. Alex had only been fourteen. And he'd just…let Blunt toy with him. A faint sense of rage accompanied the nausea as Crawley went down the elevator. He dialed 999 as he exited the building. The least he could do was let Alex have a proper funeral and not let Blunt sweep away the evidence. The poor kid deserved at least that.

Crawley immediately regretted coming out the second he saw the body. The skin was unnaturally pale. Alex's limbs stuck out at odd angles. Pale white bone jutted from the flesh and blood glistened out of the wounds. His skull had been smashed upon impact and pieces of brain matter splattered the ground. The blood had created almost a kind of halo around his head as it began to pool beneath his neck. Pieces of the skull were scattered about the pavement. Crawley jumped as the operator picked up.

"Nine-nine-nine, what is your emergency?"

Crawley let out a breath and felt the bile rise in his throat. He'd seen plenty of dead bodies. But this one looked so much like the coworkers he'd known. And they'd let a teen die for what? Some sort of sick test? That was a bit beyond the pale. He looked so young. So very young and so very still. "Hi, yes. I believe a young teenage boy just jumped out of the window. I'm at Royal & General Bank on Liverpool Street."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Crawley held his breath.

"Jesus fuck. We'll send an ambulance right over. Are you alright, sir?"

Crawley let out a sigh. That was a complicated question. "I'm physically injured."

The phone operator seemed to get the message. The line was nearly silent until the ambulance arrived. The phone operator only spoke to update him on the progress of the arriving vehicle. Crawley exchanged a grim look and shook his head ever so slightly at the paramedics when they arrived. He barely heard the sirens sounding through the air. The paramedic's expressions were equally grim as they began to load the body into the vehicle. Crawley cleared his throat. "His name was Alexander Johnathon Rider and here is the number of his current temporary guardian, Ms. Starbright. She'll need to be informed."

Crawley handed him one of his business cards that he hastily scribbled the number of Jack Starbright on the back of. One of them took it. Crawley let out a sigh and sat on the nearest bench as they began to take photos and remove pieces of the skull off the ground. Gloves had been donned. They were beginning to put up the all too familiar tape used on crime scenes. This was going to be a long day. It would be his last at MI6. Crawley didn't care about the consequences. He was not going back to work while Blunt was still there. He pulled out his phone and began to type his resignation up in the notes section.

It was barely a day after he quit before Crawley had heard anything. The first phone call had been Ms. Starbright, calling to curse him out. Crawley honestly didn't blame her in the slightest. The second phone call had been Blunt trying to convince him to come back to work in that filmy, oily, voice that he used for blackmail. Crawley had told him on no uncertain terms that he was quitting and that if Blunt fucked with anything, he was going the news with the story and footage of Blunt deciding to recruit a teenager to Special Operations and stating that his death might be advantageous. The third phone call had been from Mrs. Jones. Trying to get him back, but a bit more gently. Crawley had seen her tricks work on one too many agents for that to do its job. Jones had tried to claim that they needed him to run PR. Crawley gave zero fucks about Jones' and Blunt's careers. He was sure that MI6 as an organization would survive just fine. He'd spent a while propping them up. That said, he was done. Crawley sighed as he turned on the TV.

"Questions surround this week's tragic death of Alex Rider, 14, who plunged to their death from the forty-first floor of the Royal and General Bank today. As the tragic story unfolds, mystery surrounds the decisions of the bank to exclude Alex's guardians and lawyers from the discussion surrounding his family's multi-million-pound estate, which the bank claims now belongs to them."

Crawley stared at the TV in shock. They were claiming what?! Ian had expressly left everything to Alex. He had assumed that Blunt would have the decency to apportion it between Starbright and a few of Alex's friends, but apparently not. He weighed in on whether he should get involved or not. On one hand, he was set for life. Blunt had taken his threat to be quite credible. On the other hand, Blunt was trying to get his grubby mitts on a legacy that was most assuredly not his. Of all the people in the world who might be eligible to receive the funds, Crawley felt that Blunt was slightly below the executive board of Scorpia on the list of deserving recipients. Blunt appeared on the TV. That was their first mistake.

"Mr. Rider's death was regrettable, but, as there was no will-"

Crawley watched in satisfaction as the reporters smelled blood and went in for the kill. He took a sip of the orange juice he'd poured himself. It finally seemed to have flavor.

"Mr. Blunt, don't you think it's suspicious that he died less than a week after his uncle's death?"

Blunt paused on the screen. Crawley smirked at that. The poor man wasn't used to being questioned anymore. Not to mention, he was no longer silencing reporters for the man. What a shame. Not.

"Well, you see it was an unforeseen-"

Mhm. Very unforeseen. Like he hadn't personally planned and set it up. Crawley decided that he was going to indulge in some cheese for breakfast. This was almost too good.

"Wasn't he directly under your care when the incident occurred?"

There was an awkward silence as the reporters waited with bated breath. Crawley didn't feel an ounce of pity for the man.

"Well, yes, but-"

The reporters didn't let up for a minute. Crawley was having far too much fun with this. Finally, Blunt was getting the absolute grilling he deserved.

"You left a grieving teen unsupervised near an unguarded window?"

There was an even more awkward pause. Blunt looked slightly flustered at that question. Crawley merrily buttered his toast.

"Not every grieving teen is suici-"

Technically true. But bringing that up was not a great look when you were claiming the deceased's inheritance. After all, wasn't it supposed to go to close friends and family?

"You met the deceased once. What claim do you think you have?"

That seemed to break the flood gates. Blunt was stormed with a flurry of questions. They came in so thick and fast that no one could reasonably be expected to answer. Crawley smirked and switched off the TV. Blunt had lost control of the interview. This was not going to end well. Maybe this was going to be an okay retirement after all. Maybe he could learn to live with what he'd allowed to happen on his watch.


Fin


Based on a prompt by mediaboy (see story summary). This is the 129th work in the Winds of Change 2022 Alex Rider Prompt event, where a new prompt (plus a short 1-3K work) is posted every day. For more details, see the AO3 collection :) Want to discuss? Leave a comment beneath, or join the discord (Link on AO3 Fics or just PM me, lol). Want to take part in our Alex Rider anniversary celebrations in September? Join the WoC discord to take part in a fanfic event! Want to showcase your work to your fellow fans and authors? The WoC server has a new feature! Any author who joins can ask to join our authors' feed, which shows all the fics from the authors who opt in, including non-AR fics!