A/N: Journal article edited to sound more objective and realistic. I forgot the rules of journalism in the original version. The edits have no impact on the story.

Previously:

Alex slowly nodded, a haze settling in his mind, turning the gun around quite expertly, handing it to the bobby professionally, obviously surprising him, probably wondering what a teenager was doing having such knowledge of guns, but he didn't say or ask anything, just taking it carefully.

As soon as that happened, as soon as Alex let go of the gun, he let go of his anchor to the moment, to reality, and simply muttered, "Thanks…but you were too late…"

And then his vision faded as he fell back and his blackened mind fell into blissful darkness, away from the horrifying reality that was his life, and all he could see in his mind's eye were the dead man's lifeless eyes.

"Alex…Alex…Alex Rider…can you hear me? Alex?"

Slow, careful blinking, as that familiar voice drifted in through his ears.

"Alex?"

His eyes fully opened, him groaning. God, it hurt…everything hurt…

"Mrs. Jones?"

Her slightly blurry face smiled in relief, while he blinked to clear it.

All too soon, he remembered.

He sat bolt right up, realizing he was on a gurney in the ambulance.

"Alex," the deputy head of hell said, putting an impossibly-gentle hand on his chest. "Take it easy-"

"Where's Jack?" he growled, pushing himself off.

"Alex-"

"Where is she?!"

Most everyone in the vicinity turned to stare at him, but he didn't care. He gave up caring a long time back.

Mrs. Jones sighed, before simply pointing to her left and a little bit behind Alex, before he immediately reeled, and stopped short at the sight of the corpse before him.

It just wasn't right, for Jack's body to be bathed in such bright, early-afternoon sunlight and yet still be so pale and so cold, her lips tinged darkly as her vacant eyes stared upwards at a sun she'd never see.

Alex ignored all the crowds leaning in to watch behind the police-made barriers as he slowly walked forward to stand right next to her, taking her hand in his.

Her skin was ice cold.

So cold…it wasn't supposed to be so cold, no in this weather, not in his sun, not with what she was wearing, but it was…

"Jack…" he said shakily. He didn't know if he was crying. He didn't care.

If he made a scene, he didn't care, as his chest started shaking and he started shaking his head, shaking the tears away.

The last person he truly had left on this planet. The last family he had. She really was all he had left, and now even she gone, lost to the world of espionage that they never wanted to be a part of.

She was lost forever, and it was all his fault.

He felt a calming hand on his shoulder but rolled it off, stepping away from it and stepping closer to Jack's face, everyone else nearby having the common sense to stay away from him and this private moment, the police moving to keep him out of sight, not that it helped, not that he cared…

"Jack…" he said. Saying her name wouldn't help, but he couldn't. But she didn't even look asleep, she looked dead, Damnit. "I'm so bloody sorry…"

His tears fell against her sleeve. When had he started crying? He wasn't supposed to be crying, Damnit!

He slowly leant down, his chin resting in the crook her elbow, just like he always did at home, when he wanted to just be close to someone, because there was never someone he could be close to…but now the only person in the world he ever trusted completely was gone…she was all he had left…

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, please, I never meant for you to get hurt, please, I'm sorry Jack, I promised, I promise, please…"

Mrs. Jones came up.

"Alex-"

"Leave me alone."

His voice was harsh. Impossibly harsh. But he didn't care. Alex didn't want to deal with this – or with Mrs. Jones. She was the one who shoved him into this world to begin with. He didn't want to deal with her.

"Alex, you have to come with me-"

"Get away!" Alex shouted, not even looking up, eyes still locked on Jack's pristine face. "Get away from us, you manipulative, ruthless, heartless little bitch!"

He didn't care if she was hurt, and he didn't look to check. She probably didn't care, either, didn't have a heart. After all, how could someone with a heart have sent a child like Alex into an everlasting war that was their world, bring him into the fatal, destructive lifestyle?

"Jack," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry…"

He pressed his eyes into the crook of her elbow, and for just one, last time he drew comfort from Jack as he cried just for her.

One last time.

He didn't know how long he'd stood there, but soon enough, Alex was being forcibly pulled away as her body was loaded into the ambulance, and Mrs. Jones gently pulled him away from the entire crime scene.

A black car, a nice Mercedes C300, pulled up, and Alex and Mrs. Jones slipped quietly inside. He was suddenly stifled in quiet as soon as the door was closed and he numbly settled himself in, not even thinking about it…not thinking about anything, really, Jack's cold face still saturating his brain.

"Alex?"

Alex swallowed but simply pulled his knees up to his chest before turning to look at Mrs. Jones.

"Yea?"

She paused.

"Are you all right?"

"Yea," was the automatic answer, a little too quick, before turning his head back to face the back of the front seat, his chin on his knees, and eyes completely blank as they headed down a familiar route towards MI6 headquarters.

"Alex," Mrs. Jones said again. "What happened?"

An assassin came after them in broad daylight and Alex still let him kill Jack, that's what.

"Alex?"

And when she was shot, he couldn't even save her, not a single chance, and he had leaned over her while she died right in his arms, right under his hands.

"Alex…what happened?"

And when the man came after them, Alex lost it and shot the man right in the stomach and shattered his spine, killing him almost instantly, both of them getting covered in blood.

"Alex…"

So much blood, everywhere, his hands, his clothes, his knees, so much blood on his hands, now, just so much fucking blood just everywhere, this amount of blood wasn't natural, but neither were bullets…

"Alex!"

He didn't notice himself slipping or hyperventilating or anything of the sort, didn't notice himself falling off the seat. All he really saw was Mrs. Jones shouting something to driver while leaning over him, saying something that he just couldn't hear.

Then after that, he saw only darkness once again.

"Let him sleep, Alan!"

"We need to know the details-"

"It's pretty obvious what happened."

"We still need to see if we missed anything. He should be able to handle this better."

"No, he shouldn't. Alex is just a child."

"He's no ordinary child."

"Maybe, but he's still a child. He shouldn't be in this mess to begin with. After everything he's gone through for us, the least we can do is let him sleep."

But Alex couldn't sleep – not anymore, not with these annoying voices in the background.

Slowly, he turned around in…well, wherever he was, and opened his eyes to see Mrs. Jones and Alan Blunt standing over him.

They were silent as he slowly sat up to take a look around where he was. It was a room about twice the size of a classroom, full of bunk beds, all with pressed sheets and two pillows stacked up on each and somewhat-comfortable looking bluish-purple blankets, with more of all of these stacked up under the beds. He was in a bottom bunk near the door.

"This is the overtime room, Alex," Mrs. Jones said softly, answering his unasked question.

He looked down after a moment, slightly bewildered to see himself in some of his own night-clothes, sweat pants and an old band-shirt of Jack's.

"We sent an agent to fetch something from your home," Blunt said after a moment. "You needed a change of clothes, what with all that blood everywhere."

He nodded silently, unable to help but stare at the stupid Beatles graphic on the shirt. Jack had worn this a long time ago, but she'd never be able to wear them again. She was dead.

"Alex," Mrs. Jones said after a moment. From underneath the bed, she pulled out one of Alex's schoolbags, while pointing to one of the doors on the opposite wall. "Why don't you get dressed, and come with us to Alan's office? There are still some things we need to sort out."

Alex nodded, still having yet to say a word as he slid off the bed and grabbed the bag, heading over to the bathroom and locking it behind him.

Looking in the mirror, he saw himself, face and eyes blank, devoid of, well, anything. He felt numb, looked numb, was numb, and anyone who looked at him would see it. His eyes were blank and half-glazed over. There was a bandage on his cheek where the bullet had shot by. He was almost unnaturally pale, like he'd seen a ghost…or like he'd killed someone.

He looked away immediately, not wanting to deal with it. He only barely bothered brushing his hair, looking down while brushing his teeth, and changing with his back to the mirror. He didn't want to see…

At the very least, that agent seemed to read his mind of what Alex would mind. Dark, loose jeans, and his favorite gray hoodie, a thick and loose sweatshirt, which often made him feel like he was "wearing a hug".

Those were Jack's words, now that he thought of it – her words after she'd worn it a few times herself. In recent years, they've taken to 'stealing' each other's clothing more and more often, now that they were quite similar in size. She'd often joked that it wouldn't be long before he was taller than her.

Now it wouldn't matter.

He already missed Jack. He'd been away from her for longer amounts of time, but he still missed her already.

Damn Scorpia.

Damn MI6.

Damn him.

He looked in the mirror again. His eyes were empty. Shouldn't there be something in them? Regret? Sadness?

This was the first bloody time he'd really killed someone – that wanted to kill someone and they ended up dead because of him.

This time, it wasn't an accident. He'd attacked the man with the intent for him to die. No motor accident, no being there for the death, no doing something with a chain reaction involving death.

Just…pulling a trigger.

Alex could still feel the gun shooting right into the man, in his hands. He could still feel all that blood pouring over his hands, feel the man's heartbeat as it faded, feel the power of the organs tearing and that spine breaking, feel the man's terror, when he knew he going to die, feeling all of this through the cold metal of the gun.

He shut his eyes and turned away. He didn't want to look at himself.

Not anymore.

School bad still strapped over his shoulder, Alex walked alongside Mrs. Jones as they took an elevator and headed up several floors before appearing in front of Blunt's office. Mrs. Jones didn't even knock as she walked in. Alex silently trailed in behind her, taking a seat in his usual chair and setting down the bag while Mrs. Jones went to stand behind Blunt.

He glanced out the window, and saw it was evening already. He must've been asleep for several.

"Alex," Blunt said after a moment. He pushed an internet article, probably to be in the newspaper tomorrow, in front of Alex, and Alex only had to read the headline to know what was going on.

Teenage Boy Accidentally Kills Robber In The Park

Underneath, there was a photo of Jack, dead, the man, dead, and Alex, collapsed on the ground and unconscious, face and neck covered in blood. The caption read 'Alex Rider collapses after killing park-side mugger, who had killed Rider's guardian Jacqueline Starbright.'

Huh. So her name was short for Jacqueline.

"We couldn't keep your name out of it, completely," Mrs. Jones said. "But we pulled a few strings to implement the right lie. We even came up with a lie to explain why you were in a park instead of school. The same lie might be able to cover up your other school absences, as well."

Alex looked down and started reading.

Early this morning, a mugger started shooting at two people strolling in the park, planning to rob them, when one of his bullets hit Jacqueline Starbright in the chest, killing her almost instantly.

Alex Rider, recently released from the hospital from cancer treatment, tried to save Jack Starbright. He ended up having to wrestle the gun away from the gunman, which set it off right into the man's stomach, tearing through several vital organs and shattering his spine, killing him instantly.

According to a nearby witness, Rider then collapsed onto the ground after handing the gun to police officer Ryan Sill.

The gunman's name has yet to be discovered, and we were unable to get a word with Rider, who is currently giving a statement to the police about the day's events…

It went on to say that he was currently in police custody until these things got sorted out.

Blunt also showed Alex an editorial from an online magazine, pegging Alex as some sort of tragic hero, and hoping he'd be all right after losing his uncle and housekeeper, along with accidentally killing the man, not to mention his 'cancer'. Tragic hero, indeed.

"Cancer patient?"

Those were the first words Alex had said since he'd woken up.

"If anyone decides to take a look into why you've been absent from school so many times, which they probably will, this would actually explain it. Cancer can be a long and rigorous battle."

"How do I explain still having hair?"

"Not all cancer treatments result in hair loss. You've been in an experimental drug trial for young cancer patients – one that results in a greater chance of recovery, less nausea, and keeping your hair."

"And bruises?" Some flaw, some plot hole, something to prove that MI6 was wrong about something, and they didn't cover everything…

"You have been advised to keep up a physical activity, your karate. You haven't been better or worse, but you bruise far more easily, now, with cancer."

He nodded silently.

"Would you like a drink?" Mrs. Jones said once again. "Perhaps a Coke?"

"Thank you," he mumbled, nodding, accepting the can a moment later.

"Alex," Blunt said again. "What did happen?"

"Apart from the fact the gunman was probably from Scorpia, this article pegged it right, pretty much. When Jack died, I tried to get the gun away, and it was set off."

"There was a witness who says you attacked the man."

Alex remained silent. It'd probably been the foodstand man.

"You can't let your emotions get the best of you, Alex," Blunt said.

"Says the man with no emotions."

Blunt obviously decided not to respond to that. But then again, he really had no emotions. Alex was sure of it.

Alex swallowed as he looked up at Blunt.

"So," he said after a moment. "What's going to happen to me now that I've finally killed someone?"

Blunt almost couldn't respond, his look simply calculating while he stared into Alex's lifeless eyes.