Disclaimer: Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz, not me.

'It seems I have no tears left. They should have fallen-

Their ghosts, if tears have ghosts, did fall - that day'

('Tears' by Edward Thomas)

Alex was still pacing the cell hours after he had been deposited there by Mener. He'd taken a short break as he tried – and failed – to sleep, sometime in the afternoon, he guessed. But his mind wouldn't settle, and the rest would not overtake him, no matter how much he tried.

The image of the city of Birmingham, destroyed to a pile of rubble with bodies lining the streets, would not fade from behind his eyes. Despite Mener's assurance the missile would not cause as much damage as expected, the horrific pictures wouldn't dissipate. Not knowing was worse than anything, he believed. If he had seen the impact, his mind wouldn't exaggerate the effects. It didn't help that whenever he closed his eyes, the faces on the bodies moulded into those of Ben, K Unit, Tom – and Jack.

(-red hair streaming, blood seeping carefully out, her face twisted into an expression of pain-)

The flashbacks hit him throughout the afternoon, ripping through any progress he may have made with Ben. The memories of Jack's death haunted him, as did the recollections of his last stint with Menarc. Every time he allowed himself to pause and consider, blood would start flowing in images in his mind, until he was almost convinced he could see the red liquid in his room too.

He was going mad, and he knew it. Mener was right; this was the way to break him.

No, came a firm voice within his head. This would not destroy him. He wouldn't give in this easily. It had happened, the missile had launched, and people had been hurt and killed. He wouldn't increase that number by losing his mind completely. He was stronger than that – stronger than all of Menarc, because he had chosen the hard path of staying sane and morally right, and they had bent to the will of others, and given in. He wouldn't drop to their level, regardless of what they did to him.

But what of what they did to others? Would staying silent not hurt more? But speaking up and betraying his country could lead to many more deaths. No matter which way he turned, people were going to die, and he would be responsible. There was no right decision in this case.

For the first time in a long while, he cursed Ian for getting him into this position. That was what it came down to, wasn't it? More than MI6, more than Menarc, more than even himself, it was his uncle's fault for training him for spying, and abandoning him to the merciless government agency.

Well, he never trained me for this, Alex thought savagely. Maybe he could have told him what he would have done, offered advice, given Alex an easy way out.

Life isn't simple, though, and Alex knew that well. It was up to him to make a decision, and stick with it. There was no escape from this, and he had to face it.

Footsteps outside the corridor made him pause in his pacing, and he cocked his head to the side. He had estimated that it was the middle of the night, and although he may be wrong, he didn't think he was. Who would be coming to his cell at this time?

There was the sound of someone stopping directly outside of his cell, and of rustling. Opening the lock, no doubt, and sure enough the door swung inwards a moment later. Alex was standing, stock still, against the opposite wall, his face holding an expression only of polite interest. Give nothing away, and stay strong, was the idea.

The woman who entered wore a curious expression; not quite happy, though there was an element of excitement there, but perhaps relieved? There was a frown lingering over her brow, in contrast to the lighter emotions, and Alex wondered who the woman was. He had never seen her before, and she came with no food or water, the only reason strangers came to his room.

The woman swept a hand through her light brown hair, brushing it off her face. Most was tied back in a practical ponytail, but feather-like hairs hung down across her cheeks. She wore no make-up, nor jewellery. Her eyes shone with a fever-like glow, and Alex sighed as he realised that she, too, was probably mad.

"Alex Rider," she said quietly, examining him as she stepped forward fully into the room.

Alex nodded, thoroughly confused, and unwilling to show it.

"You look so like your father," she said, her voice as hard as it was hushed. She didn't seem to want to be overheard.

Alex started, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her in a whole new light. She knew his father, so most likely Scorpia, not Menarc – though they were one and the same in some cases. What did she want from him?

The woman shook her head, her face becoming blank as she gestured for him to come closer. "We need to leave," she ordered in a low-pitched voice. "We don't have long."

"Who are you?" Alex asked finally, his brain struggling to catch up as the exhaustion and starvation overwhelmed his body. "Go where?"

She jerked her head impatiently at the door. "Your father saved my life, once," she said quickly. "I'm repaying the favour. You'd better hurry up if you want to escape alive."

"You're helping me escape," Alex repeated slowly, frowning. He made no move towards the door. He didn't trust Menarc not to trick him, nor want to play mind-games with him.

"I will, if you'll bloody well move," she snapped, though her eyes didn't lose that bright excitement that her facial mask couldn't hide.

"How can I trust you?" he asked, stepping only one step closer, but no more.

She sighed, glancing towards the door in frustration. She slid off a backpack that Alex had barely registered and unzipped it. Inside was a tangled mess of wires, and Alex felt his eyes open in shock.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Blow up the building, of course," she hissed, throwing the rucksack on her back again, and Alex winced. Surely a bomb should be treated with more care?

"Why?" he questioned, his eyes narrowed.

"Menarc need to be stopped," she said simply. "I owe a debt to your father I can never repay to him, so it falls to you. He rescued me when I was only a teenager, shot in the arm and bleeding out. He knew I was Scorpia – and I knew he was a spy," she added, when she saw Alex's face, "and yet he took me to a hospital, and even checked in on me a couple of days later." Her voice softened, but it gave her a sinister feel, not a gentle one. "He was a good man."

"Why stop Menarc?" Alex folded his arms.

"The bastards took over Scorpia, the most powerful terrorist organisation alive, and they have proceeded to ruin it. No more board, no more honouring debts – and there is honour amongst thieves, Alex, no matter how sceptical you are. I want them dead," she concluded savagely, and Alex realised how utterly unstable she was.

Alex nodded, running out of questions.

"Satisfied?" she barked, spinning on the spot. "May we move? The cameras in here aren't live, but we only have a couple of hours before they're checked, and this bomb is timed to go off in," she checked her watch, "twenty minutes."

Alex dithered for only a minute longer. Her story was ridiculous, her motivation utterly unbelievable, but he had little choice. If he wanted to save lives, including his own, he had to take this chance. And besides, that bomb looked real enough, and he wanted to be no where near the building when it exploded. He hurried over to her, following her out of the room as she turned and shut the door behind them.

"Locked by a special pass that was easy enough to get hold of," she told him flippantly and she locked the door. "Don't want anyone to notice an open door when we haven't escaped."

"Where are we going?" Alex asked, finding his voice at last.

"Firstly," she said, spinning around to smirk at him, the excitement visible. "We are going to the most central room in the compound, and we are going to place this bomb. Menarc are going to pay for messing with Scorpia."

Alex trailed behind her closely as they marched dup the corridor. She held a handgun in her hand loosely, and he didn't doubt she would use it.

"Are we underground?" Alex whispered, trying to gather as much information as possible.

"No," she shook her head, "simply a mostly abandoned part of the compound with no windows. There is a basement, but the walls are so firmly built that exploding the bomb there will do little damage. The best chance we have is the centre."

"Is this Menarc head quarters?" Alex asked, his voice still quiet although they had come across no life so far. The cameras didn't swivel as they moved past them, and Alex presumed they too were monitored every so often, and were not live.

The woman laughed under her breath. "Of course not. This is an old Scorpia compound, mostly abandoned until the three idiots who took you headed here. A few Menarc members moved here after that, especially as Menarc needed a new compound urgently."

"Why bother blowing it up then?" Alex queried, his mind trying to puzzle it out as they ran, light-footed, along the bare corridors.

"To inflict damage," she retorted, her smile turning creepy again. Alex resolved to stay away from the issue, and held his silence. For the time being, he would have to trust in the strange woman. He had no gun, no way of defending himself, and he could feel the blood pounding in his head. He was in no state for a fight, and he resigned himself to protection from the woman.

They continued for a couple of minutes along the blank white walls, until windows started appearing, and there were rooms that didn't have locked metal doors. They then slowed down, checking corners before they turned, and the woman held her gun out at all times. She was expecting trouble; that was obvious.

They came across their first guard shortly, and Alex was opened his mouth to try and communicate a way of getting past the man who was sitting in a chair in a room with an open door just off the corridor. Before he could utter a word, the woman crept round the corner of the door and shot the man in the forehead. It was a clean shot, the man had no time to think or react, and he slumped in the chair – dead. The gun had only made the small subdued noise from a silencer, and Alex winced. The ease at which she performed the shot worried him, but he had no choice but to continue with her. She had already begun to walk along the corridor without him, and he hurried to catch up. He hoped killing would never come as easily to him, because then he knew he was lost, but at the same time he understood that he was, or would have to become, reconciled with death.

"We're close," the woman murmured a couple of minutes later, and Alex panicked as he realised he had no idea how much time had passed since they'd left the room, and he wasn't sure he trusted her enough to get them both out alive. She seemed mad enough to not care if she died in the attempt. "It's just around the corner."

She leaned around the corner carefully when they got to it, checking to see if the coast was clear. A couple of shots and thumps later revealed it now was, and Alex flinched again. She stepped out, and Alex lost track of what happened next.

Her body hit the ground next to his, a loud shot echoing from behind them, and he acted on instinct, grabbing her falling gun before it hit the ground and spinning, faster than he'd ever moved before, knowing his life now depended on this. He raised the gun up to the man's face who had crept up on them, just as the man was once again aiming his weapon at Alex. Alex's instruction in instinctive shooting served him well as he fired off a bullet before the man had fully measured up the target, the normal shooting technique slow and clumsy compared to that taught by Scorpia. Time seemed to slow as the bullet travelled at around 300 metres per second, and Alex watched the stillness of the strange man as the lethal round object sped towards him. The man could have a family, kids – unlikely, but the point was that Alex didn't know. He would always mourn those lost possibilities, the unknowns with which he was left. The man's image would stay with him forever, as would the sight of the impact, the tiny bullet drilling perfectly into the man's forehead, leaving little blood but a whole load of internal mess as it buried itself in the man's head.

The man crumpled, dead on impact, and fell backwards on the floor. Alex froze for only a moment, his mind trying to unite the dead body with the gun still held pointing forwards in his hand. Alex shook his head, the knowledge that he had to move pushing through the fog. Almost mindlessly, he picked up the woman's rucksack with his other hand, never letting go of the gun. He studiously ignored the blood seeping out. The loud shot of the man, who obviously had no silencer, would soon attract more people to the area, and even now the timer on the bomb was ticking down. He would make the woman's sacrifice worth it, no matter how crazed she may have been.

He rounded the corner, listening carefully for any movement, and deposited the bag in a nearby room. He didn't know precisely where the woman had planned for it to go, but it would do. He wouldn't waste any more time pondering. He tucked it around the side of a cupboard, hoping the basic hiding place would disguise it for another few minutes, or however long he had left until it went off.

He glanced around helplessly for a moment, knowing clearly in his mind that he was lost in this compound, and hearing a phantom ticking of the bomb in his head. He had to go, but where? He wouldn't go back – he'd seen no exit where they were and the woman had said it was an abandoned area, therefore unlikely to have an open door to the outer world. His only choice was to go forward into unknown territory, and take a chance.

He strode quickly away from the direction of the dead bodies, refusing to allow himself to think about it. He could freak over the events when he was safe, not before, he told himself firmly, and clutched the gun tighter in his hand. He tried to keep as quiet as possible, knowing guards were going to have been alerted, although he didn't see any for a long time.

The first man who came across was lounging in a room off the corridor, twirling a gun in his hand. Alex felt a moment's panic that he squashed down. Could he do what the woman had done, and shoot a man in cold blood? Or should he take a chance and creep past? The indecision hovered in his mind, and he knew he wasn't thinking straight. The traumatic events and malnutrition was wreaking havoc on his cognitive process, but he had to choose. Shoot, or run. Kill, or risk losing his own life.

He lingered for a moment longer, before peering around the doorframe and checking the man wasn't looking. Every so often he spun in his chair, and Alex knew he was taking a big risk – at any moment, the man might turn. Nonetheless, clinging onto his gun so tightly his knuckles were white, he bolted across the doorway, not stopping until he was a metre or so away from the room. He waited, listening carefully, ready to shoot if he had to, but no movement came. He'd made it without being seen. It left no body for someone to find, and preserved a small part of his soul that hadn't been ripped apart already. Self-defence he could cope with – or would be able to, with the help of Ben and his psychiatrist, but killing in cold-blood? He never wanted to be able to do that without a pause.

Alex continued on his journey, taking the straight corridor when he could and randomly picking a path when there was a junction. He saw no more men, and remembered what the woman had said – only a few men from Menarc had moved in. He had no idea what she had been planning on doing after planning the bomb, one of the reasons he was secretly a bit relieved she hadn't managed to, as Menarc wouldn't take her back, and Scorpia no longer existed.

Tick, tick, tick

His mind supplied the imagery noise of a clock, and he winced, knowing he had no clue how long he had left, or indeed if he was far enough away. He had to get out, but he was totally lost. It was becoming a matter of life and death.

The sound of a man talking filtered into his mind and he slowed, trying to pinpoint its location. There was only one voice, and he presumed that meant the man was on the phone. He bit his lip, and idea forming. He hated it, despised the necessity and the mask it would need, but he had to escape. It was a risk, but a calculated one.

He brought up the gun so that it was held out in front of him, and he blanked his expression, making his face and body language hard. He had to appear dangerous, or this would not work. He waited for the man to say goodbye to the person on the phone and breathed deeply when he heard the words.

He rounded the corner slowly, the gun never wavering. The man – young, in his twenties, and more of a technical worker than a guard, by the looks of it – glanced up at him and the weapon and froze. He placed the phone on the desk, the gentle thud resounding in the quiet. Alex's face was frozen.

"Show me the way out, or I'll shoot," Alex ordered, his tone blunt and forceful. The man rose out of his chair as if in a daze, his eyes never leaving the gun except to flick up to Alex's face for a second.

"Wh-Who are you?" the man stammered. Definitely a techie, if he didn't know who Alex was and had no experience with fighting, by the looks of it. He wouldn't be innocent, not by any stretch if he was working with Menarc, but he didn't appear to know how to deal with real life situations. He was probably one of the techies behind organising the missile launch.

"You don't need to know," Alex said coldly, drawing on every last memory of action films he had stored, praying the man wouldn't notice. He didn't seem to. "Show me the way out," Alex demanded again.

"I-I- I don't think I should do that," the man replied, and Alex had to admire his guts. The sentiment was destroyed in the next second when desperation began to show. He had to get out; the clock was ticking.

"I will shoot," Alex warned, but the man said nothing, only shaking his head over and over. Alex pushed down the despair and panic, and took the only course he could see open to him. Aiming the gun at the man's chest, he started to squeeze the trigger, ignoring the man's startled cry. At the last minute he pulled the gun down from the chest, burying a bullet in between the man's feet. The man uttered a quiet shout in surprise, flinching as if expected a bullet through the eyes at any second.

"Next time it will hurt," Alex said calmly, redirecting the gun to the man's body again, and raising his eyebrows. "You will show me the way out."

The man took a minute to recover his breathing, and Alex was aware of the time passing with excruciating clarity.

"You won't shoot me," the man said in a low voice, his tone gaining confidence. Alex realised he had underestimated him; the intimidation hadn't worked. The man simply thought he was a coward now. Burying his desperation, he scowled, and shot, without warning, a bullet straight through the man's lower left arm. The force of the bullet spun the man slightly, and he howled, clutching the arm to his chest as blood began to slowly flow. It would cause no long term damage, Alex knew, and he had deliberately aimed away from the arteries Scorpia had shown him so long ago now. But it would frighten him, cause him pain, and hopefully make him cooperative.

Alex straightened his arm, cocking his head to the side and asking, "Will you show me the way out?"

The man choked out a reply. "I'll show you, I'll show you," he muttered, his tone sharp with pain, and his eyes clouded. He bent over his arm.

"Lead the way," Alex retorted, gesturing with the gun towards the door and gaining no pleasure in watching the man flinch at the movement. He was trying so hard not to show his disgust at his own actions, or the way his heart was pounding a mile a minute. He had no choice, he told himself over and over again as guilt threatened to overwhelm him.

The man scuttled past him, never letting go of his arm. He turned right out of the corridor in the opposite direction to which Alex had come, and he experienced momentary gratification as he realised he had at least been heading in the right direction. Alex followed him out, the hand holding the gun never moving an inch. Every so often, the man would glance at it and clutch at his injury even tighter. The bleeding was slowing, and Alex knew the man would be all right, even though it would hurt like hell. Alex could barely feel his own injury anymore, due to the adrenaline coursing through him, but knew he'd probably need stitches and antibiotics by the time he was out of here and safe.

"Don't even think of getting anyone's attention," Alex said after a couple of minute's silence. "I won't hesitate to shoot you between the eyes if I feel threatened."

The man nodded, flicking his gaze to the gun again. It was becoming something of a nervous habit as they trailed the hallways, Alex noticed. The route was becoming convoluted, but more and more windows were appearing and the area looked less like a prison so he presumed they were going in the right direction. This was his main issue with this plan, as well as the obvious moral problems. He had no way of knowing whether he was being led in the right direction, and Alex hated being ignorant.

Less than a hundred metres from the room Alex had first threatened him in, the stranger turned to him and gestured to a non-descript door.

"This will take you outside by the main road out of the compound," he informed Alex. He took out a card without being asked and Alex recognised it as the same as the woman from earlier had held to open his own door. The gateway to the outside world slid open in silence and Alex stood stock still, breathing in the fresh air and rejoicing in the still night.

He looked at the man, knowing leaving him alive was a risk – a huge one – but not wanting to do anything drastic. The man hovered, probably knowing what he was thinking, and desperate to escape death. Alex hesitated for a moment longer before the pressures of time forced him into a quick decision.

"Thank you," he said, honest for the first time since they'd met. The man didn't relax, almost vibrating with the tension and pain. Although reluctant to make his situation worse, Alex reached out, quick as a flash, and whacked the gun down on the back of the man's head, wincing at the noise of the impact. The man crumpled, unconscious, and Alex muttered a small sorry, despite knowing he couldn't live with any other decision.

He took a deep breath and stepped outside the walls onto concrete. Immediately, a loud alarm started, and Alex jumped. Motion sensors, of some sort, he thought with a groan. Shit. If the gunshot from earlier hadn't attracted anyone – and it hadn't seemed to, presumably due to the fact the area had been abandoned – they'd definitely know something was up now. And the first thing they'd do was check the cameras, discover he'd escaped, and probably find the bomb.

The thought galvanised him into action, and he ran, his grip tight around the handgun. His exhausted body complained at him with every step and his vision swam in and out, but he didn't allow himself to stop. There appeared to be no one outside and he soon found the main road the man had described. He followed it a short distance, only about thirty metres from the compound when he heard a distinct boom. The bomb had exploded.

He didn't look around, knowing to stop meant certain death. Instead, he ran and ran, out of the main gates of the compound, bypassing the guards entirely who had legged it over to the main building when they'd heard the explosion.

He didn't stop running until his body gave out spectacularly, collapsing into a heap at the side of a road, about a mile from the compound. He shivered in the cold air, bringing his legs into his chest, his lungs struggling to draw in the air they so desperately needed and his legs stinging as lactic acid built up. He wasn't safe, not by a long shot, but he was out. He rested his head on his knees and shook with supressed sobs. He didn't want to ever remember what had happened in that place, or the things he had had to do to survive.

He wanted Ben.

A/N: So, speedy update due to the fact that my laptop is back! I have lost everything :( but that hasn't stopped me from writing, and I'm getting really into this action lark, despite dreading it for chapters.

I got a lot of mixed answers when researching average speed for a bullet from a handgun, so I picked one. I'm English, we don't have guns at all really, and so I confess I'm pretty ignorant on the whole thing. Any information on handguns and anything I may have gotten wrong will be greatly appreciated :)

Please, please, review, and thank you to those who did last chapter. It inspired me to write more, and it makes this all worthwhile.

Dreams x