Disclaimer: Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz

A/N: Are you impressed? Two updates in a week? Luckily for you, I'm sacrificing all the work I'm supposed to be doing :) Hope you enjoy . . .

'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step'

(Lao Tzu)

The car drive back from the Royal and General was silent for a long time; all of them turning over the new information. Alex was looking out the window, his head bowed slightly in thought. Wolf was frowning down at his folded arms, occasionally sighing. Ben himself was occupied with wondering how Alex was coping.

"Are you ok, Alex?" he asked finally, his low voice breaking the stillness of the air. He saw Alex's head turn round to face him in his mirror, and was content to know that Alex was actually listening for once.

"Yeah," the spy said, "I'm fine." Wolf snorted.

"What?" Alex snapped defensively. Wolf unfolded his arms.

"You're completely fine," he said sarcastically. He pointed to Alex's sling. "I mean, it's not like you've got a broken arm or anything."

"I'm fine," Alex repeated, and Ben sighed. Couldn't the two of them actually get along for once?

"Sure you are," the soldier replied, glaring at him.

"What's it to you, anyway?" Alex answered harshly, leaning back against the side of the car in a defensive posture.

"It's not fair on Ben if you lie," he hissed back.

"What?" Alex asked, confused by his words. Without either of them noticing, Ben pulled into the driveway of a semi-detached house in the suburbs of London, rolling his eyes.

"Ben has spent so much time trying to help you, and all you do is lie," Wolf replied, somewhat bitterly. Ben smiled slightly at his old friend's protective words, but knew he had to interrupt before it got out of hand.

"Leave it, Wolf," he told the soldier, then turned to the spy. "Don't worry about it, Alex."

Neither of them replied.

Ben took a deep breath – again – and stepped out of the car, noting absently that Wolf was doing the same. He went around the car in order to help Alex out, but found that the teenager was already standing up, his face tense with pain but strangely thoughtful. Ben wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting some of his weight, happy to find that Alex didn't push him away like before.

"Thanks," the teen muttered. Wolf marched ahead of them to the front door. Ben wondered what Alex thought of the house, knowing that it was nothing special.

"It's quite small," he informed the spy, "but it should be fine for us."

He took out a key and unlocked the door. Wolf, used to the house, walked in, dumping his body down on a sofa in the lounge.

"Where are we all going to sleep?" Alex asked curiously.

"You have your own room upstairs," Ben replied absently, leaving the keys on a side and leading Alex through to the living room. "I've obviously got the same room I always sleep in, and there's a small bedroom for one member of K-Unit to sleep in."

"And the others?"

"If more than one of them wants to stay, they'll have to squish in somewhere," Ben shrugged. "Someone could sleep on the sofa, I suppose." He saw Wolf look at it, appraisingly, and Ben realised that there was no way Wolf would fit on the small sofa. Oh well.

Ben released Alex's waist, allowing him to sit down on an armchair, whilst he went into the kitchen to retrieve the bag of drugs Dr Foster had given him in preparation for Alex leaving the hospital. Checking the schedule he had been given, he grabbed one pill and a glass of water.

"Here," he said, handing it over to Alex, "it's a painkiller."

Alex frowned, looking reluctant to take it. However, common sense overruled stubbornness, and he soon swallowed it down. Ben was glad; the tension on Alex's face had not been nice to look at and he knew that that was the only way he would ever be able to tell that the young spy was in pain.

"Why is there never anything on TV?" Wolf complained, flicking through the channels, his expression growing grumpier and grumpier every passing minute. Ben rolled his eyes, and was pleased to see Alex smirking a small bit.

"I'll show you upstairs," Ben said, gesturing to the staircase just visible in the hallway. Alex nodded, rising slowly, the painkillers not having kicked in yet. Ben offered his arm again, but was refused this time with a simple shake of the head. He sighed internally, but knew he had a long way to go until Alex dropped his barriers and explained his actions.

"I only bought this house a few years ago," Ben said, wanting to fill the silence. The chatter of the TV was faint in the background as they climbed the stairs. "My father loaned me some money, as I never really got that much from the army or the SAS. SIS pays well though, and I'm slowly paying him back."

Alex nodded, his head down, concentrating on moving one foot in front of the other and not collapsing when he placed weight on his injured leg.

"It's not big," Ben continued, "but it's all I ever needed. It's got room for my dad to stay as well, when he wants to. And my brother . . ." Ben's voice trailed off, thinking sadly about his stubborn younger brother.

"Still," he said, "it's in a nice neighbourhood, and apparently it's fairly close to your old school?"

Alex nodded, mumbling a quick, "yeah".

"So that means you can go back there when you're a bit better," Ben carried on, noticing with surprise Alex's slight frown at his words. "But, anyway," he said, "here's your room."

He led Alex inside the room next to his. It wasn't that big, but had a single bed and desk inside. There was also a mirror on the front of a large wardrobe, and the walls were painted a very pale blue. A window opposite the desk allowed the light to seep in.

"I thought you might want to take a nap, or something?" Ben suggested, glancing at the teenager's worn face. Alex nodded, sitting down gently on the bed. "I'll bring up the stuff I got from MI6," Ben said, shutting the door behind him.

Minutes later, when Ben had brought up the bags of things that MI6 had collected from his uncle's house, Alex lay back on the bed, his breathing steadying. He had no desire to go to sleep, but he was glad to have the time alone. It had been more overwhelming than he had predicted to leave the hospital, and the conversation at Liverpool Street had been a really test for his nerves. The flashbacks had come thick and fast and it was all he could do to stop himself outwardly reacting. Then coming here, to a place so near his old house and looking so much the same . . . It had not been pleasant. He kept expecting to see Jack walking around the corner, or lounging on the sofa.

(-"this place is a mess, Alex" she laughed, kicking a stray cushion on the floor-)

His throat was clogging up and his eyes watering, but he refused to let himself cry. No feeling sorry for yourself, he thought harshly. She is gone, and you have to accept that.

But no matter what he did, the image of Jack's laughing, carefree face never left his mind. Even when he slipped into a restless, unintentional sleep, the picture never faded from his view.

(-"I got us a takeout for dinner tonight,"

"Takeaway," he corrected.

"Whatever, she laughed, her American accent never fading-)

Dinner that night was silent, the three of them clustered around the small table in the open plan lounge, dining room and kitchen. Alex had been woken by Ben a few minutes previous, with the news that it was now evening and that dinner was ready. He had nodded, settling his breathing that had escalated because of Ben leaning over him, and climbed out of the bed.

"I made an appointment with a psychiatrist tomorrow," Ben said hesitantly to Alex over the hot meal of macaroni cheese.

Alex glanced up sharply, saying nothing.

"He's MI6 approved, so you can tell him whatever you like. Forget about 'classified', he has high enough clearance to hear anything you say," Ben carried on, looking nervous at Alex's silence.

"I know you don't like to talk about it, Cub," Wolf joined in, his temper apparently settled from earlier, "but psychiatrists can really help."

Alex looked at him carefully, sensing the honesty in his words. "Personal experience?" he asked carefully.

The soldier shrugged. "I spend half the year in Afghanistan," he replied. "What do you think?"

Alex nodded, playing with his food. He had no doubt that the SAS man had experienced some pretty bad stuff. Ben looked slightly out of his depth, a minor spy who had only ever been on a few missions with MI6 and only one assignment with the SAS, which hadn't been particularly strenuous.

"You need to eat more of that," Ben said, pointing at the food.

Alex shrugged. "Why? You gave me more than anyone else."

"That's because you need to put on weight," Ben answered, frustrated.

"He's right," Wolf agreed. "You're way too light."

Alex felt mutinous. He couldn't eat all of the food on his plate, and the hospital had never made him eat so much.

"I know you're not that hungry, Alex," Ben started.

"You're right, I'm not," Alex muttered.

"But you do need to put the weight back on."

Alex stared at the food, contemplating how much more of it he could eat. He had eaten well over half, and had only a small amount left. His stomach felt full, and as he lifted some more of the pasta up to his lips, his stomach revolted. He placed it down quickly, trying not to retch.

"I can't," he told Ben quietly, picking up his plate with his one working hand and putting the macaroni in the food bin placed conveniently next to the main one. He put his plate in the dishwasher-

(-Jack was standing there, soapy plate in hand as she told Alex to get out the ice cream.

"Why do you wash them by hand?" he asked curiously.

"It's more satisfying," she replied smiling, her red hair curtaining her face-)

- and walked out of the room, ignoring Ben calling his name.

Behind him, Ben and Wolf exchanged frustrated glances.

"We shouldn't have pushed him," Ben muttered.

Wolf shrugged. "We're going to have to at one point," he reasoned. "I think we're just going to have to get used to him walking out on us."

"Learning when to back off would be a good skill too," said Alex from the doorway. "As would learning not to talk about me behind my back." He glared at them, shoulders tense, and Ben knew they had hurt him, in a way. Trust was everything with Alex, even if he rarely learnt to trust anyone himself.

"Sorry," Ben said quietly. "It's a bit of a new situation for all of us. Will you stay downstairs for a bit?"

Alex frowned at them for a moment longer, but knew that he was unlikely to get back to sleep straight away. An evening spent up in his room, all alone, looked slightly less appealing than passing the time down in the lounge with Ben and Wolf, as awkward as it would be. He nodded and made his way into the connecting room, collapsing onto the sofa, grateful that the earlier painkiller was still working and he felt only minimal pain when moving.

Ben and Wolf soon joined him, the dishwasher making a steady noise behind them as they sat on the sofa and armchair in awkward silence.

"Shall we watch a film?" Ben suggested, wandering over to the collection of disks on one of the shelves. Alex shrugged as Wolf agreed.

"The Godfather?" Wolf said in hope. Ben glanced at Alex, who pretended not to notice, and shook his head slightly. Alex knew that Ben was thinking of all the violence in the film.

"I was thinking about . . . maybe . . . 127 hours?" Ben said at last, after searching through his films for something that wasn't too violent or possibly triggering for Alex.

"What's it about?" Alex asked, finally speaking up. Ben looked over at him from his crouched position on the floor, and explained.

"It's about a guy who goes climbing in America," he said, "but gets stuck and has to cut his hand off. I think it basically details the one hundred and twenty seven hours he was trapped."

"Sounds interesting," Wolf snorted, "how can they make a film about a guy who's alone for the whole time? What the hell do they put in it?"

Ben shrugged. "I'm not sure," he replied, "but it's supposed to be really good. It's a true story, as well."

Alex pulled his legs up onto the sofa, wincing when he realised that the movement pulled on both his leg and back wounds. He settled for crossing his arms instead, and tried not to think about the similarities between his and the climber's stories. Both trapped beyond their control, both badly injured . . . He wasn't sure he wanted to see it.

"Let's watch it then," sighed Wolf. "Since it seems like I can't see the Godfather," he added, muttering. Ben put the disk inside the machine, returning to the sofa and stretching his legs out in front of him. Alex leaned back, resigned to watching the film.

He was surprised later on, when he realised that he had actually quite enjoyed it. The violence was minimal, and it was fascinating to see how the climber – not trained to deal with those sorts of situations – dealt with it all during the days he was trapped. Alex thought long and hard about whether he could have cut off his own hand to get free like the climber did; it was a choice he hoped he would never have to make.

Ben stood up, yawning; it was now past ten. Alex copied; strangely tired despite the nap he took earlier.

"Well, I'm going to go to bed," Ben said, stretching his arms above his head.

"Right," muttered Wolf, still lazing around on the armchair. "I'm going to stay up longer, I think."

"Alex?" Ben asked.

"Hmm?" he said, having started to drift off where he stood. He yawned. "I'm going to bed too," he answered.

Ben and Alex made their way slowly up the stairs. The painkillers had now worn off and he was limping slightly.

"I took the different drugs upstairs for you, along with the schedule," Ben told him once they reached the landing. "I know you'd prefer to monitor your own body."

Alex nodded, surprised at this show of trust. He had had startlingly little control over his life for the past few weeks, and the knowledge that Ben was trying to make it easier for him by surrendering this little job to him made him smile.

"Thanks," he murmured, unable to demonstrate how much that small act meant to him.

"No problem," Ben replied easily, and Alex thought that, maybe, Ben did understand.

"Night," he muttered sleepily, and walked into the – his– room, hearing Ben say goodnight behind him. Settling down on the bed, he cast his mind over the happenings of the day, and smiled.

He looked around the small enclosed room, so familiar to him after the weeks he had spent there. Strangely, there was sunlight streaming into the room from a large window, but when he looked out, the view went dark. He felt a tingle of pain in his hand, and glanced at it to see his hand hanging, his wrist almost completely sawn through. The muscle and bone could easily be seen and blood was dripping everywhere . . .

"Alex!" he heard a cry. He looked away from his wrist and saw Jack standing against the opposite wall. As he watched, there was a bang and she slid down the wall, crimson everywhere, and he was falling, falling, falling . . .

Alex sat up, breathing frantically and shaking. He hadn't had a dream that bad for a few days, and he cursed himself for watching that stupid film the night before.

(-alone, he was alone, nobody but him, and pain, and death, and loneliness, and fear, fear of blood, fear of being alone, fear of death, fear, fear, fear, fear -)

Swinging his legs off the bed, he padded over to the desk where he could see the piles of pills and a piece of paper. Picking up the paper, he saw that he had forgotten to take his painkiller the night before, and, shrugging, he swallowed one dry. That would explain the pain, he thought wryly as he limped out of the room and into the bathroom that Ben had shown him the day before. He glanced at the mirror, turning quickly away when he saw his reflection. He looked like a ghost: pale, white and tense, with the crooked scar on his cheek, his hair shaved short, and a sling round his arm.

Dropping the sling, he stepped into the shower, ignoring the fact that it was only two in the morning. He wanted to wash away all the grime he could feel covering him and the imaginary dirt that seemed to fill his body whenever he thought about his dream. The shower was ice-cold, but Alex didn't mind. The temperature helped ground him, and pulled his mind out of the images that kept flashing repeatedly in front of his eyes.

After a few minutes, he stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He returned to his room, dressing quickly to avoid looking at the scars he knew were twisting around his body. After checking the time – 2:18 – he tiptoed downstairs, still slightly limping, intent on getting a cup of tea. He was surprised to find Wolf sitting in the kitchen, nursing a mug of coffee and looking down at the table.

"Wolf?" he said softly, unsure what the soldier was doing. His head shot up suddenly, looking surprised. Apparently, he hadn't heard him come downstairs.

"Cub?" Wolf asked. "What are you doing up?"

Alex walked around to the kettle, filling it up with water while he pondered how to answer the question. "Couldn't sleep," he replied at last. "You?"

"The same," Wolf murmured, and Alex decided not to comment on his bloodshot eyes or the way he ran his hand through his hair. Wolf was respecting his wishes in not questioning him further, so he could do the same.

Alex got out a mug and a tea bag, placing a small amount of milk and sugar in the cup. When the kettle had boiled, he poured the water into the mug and sat down, noticing that Wolf hadn't moved at all.

"Stupid film," he muttered, not looking at the soldier.

Wolf snorted in surprise, and quietly agreed, "Yeah".

"I blame Ben," Alex said, taking a sip of his still-too-hot tea.

Wolf chuckled slightly. "I'll tell him that in the morning".

"It's the morning now, technically," Alex said absently.

"Smart-arse," the soldier replied, before downing his coffee and standing up. Alex looked up, wondering what he was doing.

"Since it's the morning," Wolf carried on, "I think I'm going back to bed."

Alex nodded, aware that there was no chance of him getting back to sleep, especially not after such a nightmare.

"Yeah," he said, swallowing the last of his tea, "I think I'll do the same."

They went upstairs in silence, saying not a word, and went into their rooms. Neither commented on the fact that they both knew the other would be lying awake until the morning dawned, hours later. Instead, they hid in their rooms, lonely but unwilling to fight the voice that said they couldn't tell others of their weakness.

Alex wondered when he had become so stubborn.

A/N: Impressed? Two updates? I'm in shock . . .

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this :) I'm trying to write more in-depth than my other stories (most which have been deleted now - see my profile for more details). Let me know if you think I succeeded!

Please review, I'd love to get to one hundred :D

ForeverChasingDreams