Dear readers, it is a Wednesday, and I therefore return with the next instalment of my - ahem - epic. (grin)
A quick question - though I'm bowled over by the number of reviews this story has got, and thank you to all of you, the response dropped considerably last chapter, and I'm just wondering, was there a reason for that? I'm not going to stamp my foot over it - though it was, of course, incredibly tempting just to spend the week pouting over it (grin) - but, was there a reason for it? Was there something people disliked about last chapter - poor characterisation, bad writing, drop in the plotline?
(shrug/blush/grin) I feel bad asking, since the response to this has been overwhelming, but the drop in reviews was quite considerable, and since I am, at heart, totally and utterly paranoid...
Sorry. I'm not ungrateful - just totally paranoid. If I CAN do something better, I want to, y'see...
Thanks go to the following people: Silver Queen, Aimed mischief, Fishy-Bubbles, R-Gomeni, dreamofstories (tthfanfic), vampassassin, The Wall, liz22463, AD/SheWeapon1, Embry, carsinya, ladylookslikeadude, dreamgirl93, MarauderetteLily, CMT1992, enda, Jossi-kun, Kates Master's Sister, Novocain, random, Lake25, DeathGodGirl, hahaheeheehaha, ninjamonkey, Gold is power, Mrs.JonesPepermentProvider, Elithil and blackroserising.
Of course, as always, a huge vote of thanks goes out to Von, who nursed me through this, and also to xaritomene, who kicked me when I needed to be kicked. Thanks, both of you!
DISCLAIMER: It's all lies, I say, lies. Alex Rider is mine, mine, mine!! I know he is - the voices told me so.
Snake headed over to St. Thomas' Hospital on his own the next morning, having arranged it with Wolf that it was probably best for the other man to give the kid some space, after the way he'd handled him the first time. He didn't bother checking in at reception, now that he knew where Cub was in the hospital, which was why he managed to get all the way up to the kid's room before he found out that Cub was, in fact, no longer there.
He headed back down to reception, face set into a hard frown, confused and more than a little worried.
"I'm looking for Alex Rider." He said, as calmly as he could, at the reception desk, trying to ignore the small stirrings of worry he could feel starting up. After all, it wasn't unreasonable to be worried, the kid had just tried to kill himself – and shouldn't he have been on suicide watch, or something, anyway?
The secretary gave him a piercing look. "Are you a blood relative, sir?"
"Yes." He said, impatiently. "I'm his cousin, mother's side. Look, I have to – catch a train soon, please, I just want to visit my cousin, his uncle told me he was in hospital."
The secretary – "Tish", according to her name-badge – pursed her lips a little, but didn't question it, typing something into the computer. "Mr. Rider was discharged earlier today." She read something off the screen, her lips moving just a little. "According to his doctor, no follow-ups are required."
"Have you got an address there?" Snake asked, worried, but determined not to show it.
"You can ask 'his uncle' for that." 'Tish' told him, rather sarcastically, and that was all he could get out of her, no matter what he tried.
Outside the hospital, he headed for the Tube, getting over to Wolf's place as quickly as he could. When his team-mate opened the door, and let him in, he said, in a low voice,
"James, there's a problem…"
Wolf's expression blanked and hardened, a defence mechanism Snake recognised all too well as his team-mate's extremely effective emotional mask. "Kid's alright, isn't he?" he asked, off-handedly. Wolf was never one for admitting that he might actually give a damn about anyone, especially not the ten-day annoyance they'd had to put up with during training. But that didn't mean that seeing that same annoyance lying essentially abandoned in a hospital bed, with broken bones and suicidal tendencies, couldn't kick-start some sort of emotion, at least.
"I don't know." Snake admitted, awkwardly. "He – wasn't there. When I got to the hospital, he'd been discharged, with 'no follow-up necessary'. Look, he was hit by a car just over a week ago, he should still be in hospital, cos he's probably go internal damage of some sort, and – no follow-ups? He should be having PT, and monitoring, and all that! I think Cub fixed the records so he could disappear; I don't think he wanted us to…"
"Wait, Cub?" A voice said, from the doorway. "Cub as in, Brecon Beacons, double-o-nothing? That Cub?"
Snake glanced at Wolf, before looking over at Eagle, and nodding, shortly, once. "That Cub."
Eagle leant against the door-frame, crossing his arms over his chest. "And he got hit by a car?"
Wolf cleared his throat. "No. He threw himself in front of one. Different."
Eagle stared, for once shocked out of his habitual humour-as-a-defence-mechanism demeanour. "He tried to commit suicide?!"
"Yeah." Snake said, bluntly. "And now he's disappeared, and I want to make sure that the next time we see him, it's not in a morgue, alright?"
Eagle nodded. "Do you want to ring Matt, or shall I?"
"I will." Wolf said, shortly. "And then I'm going to see if we can find his home address, or something."
"What about MI6?" Snake asked, quietly. "Shouldn't they be notified of their agents – problem?"
Wolf looked at him for a second, apparently thinking it through, before turning away. "What about them?" he asked, coolly.
Alex spent the next few days trawling round everywhere he could think of, asking for jobs; some of the places he tried, he'd had an hour-long commute to get there.
In the end, he only got a job because he'd been turned down, yet again, by a library nearly an hour and a half away from his house. He'd crossed the road, heading back to the Tube – he'd scrounged up the money for his Oyster card by using the last of his emergency money, reflecting that his entire life seemed to be one long emergency at the moment, so it was justifiable – and had spotted the sign. "Help Wanted". It was a garage, a large one, and Alex paused before he went in.
He couldn't help in a garage – not with a broken arm.
But he'd tried a whole load of places, the last few days. Anywhere was worth trying.
"Course you can't help here, kid, you've got a broken arm." The large man said, not unkindly, when Alex inquired about the job.
Alex looked away. He couldn't face this again. "Please." He said, and went scarlet when his voice broke over the word. "Please, I've…" he swallowed. "I've tried everywhere."
The man frowned down at him. "Any reason they won't have you?" he asked, an edge to his voice. "You got a criminal record, or something?"
"No, I've got a broken arm." Alex shot back, tone lacking any real bite.
The man – who'd introduced himself as Don Campbell, the owner of the garage – looked at him, and quirked a grin. "Fair point." He frowned. "Right. And, you've worked with cars before, you say?"
"Had a weekend job at the local garage for three years." Alex said, truthfully.
"And why'd you leave there?"
"It shut down."
"OK." Campbell looked away, biting his lip. "Look, kid… I'd like to help, really, but I can't afford pity cases…"
"D'you need help filing?" Alex asked, desperately. "Just until my arm heals; look, I could sort out your records, take phone calls, whatever… I'll stay late, and come in early, whatever works… I can clean up… Then, when my arm's better, I can start with the actual mechanics of it…"
Campbell gave him a long, steady look. "Why're you so desperate, anyway?"
Alex swallowed a little, and shrugged. "I need the money." He admitted, unwillingly, and went on with his now-well-practiced cover story. "My mum just died, and god knows where my dad is." He shrugged. "I need an income."
There was another long pause. Finally, Campbell said, slowly, "And – you're good with filing, you say? Good at organising?"
Alex nodded, quickly. "Yeah, I'm… I'm good at that."
"Come with me." He led Alex into a cluttered little back office, and flicked the light switch; it didn't work. A computer – surprisingly new and up-to-date – stood on a desk among grimy, torn paper, which had somehow spilt onto the floor, and was scattered everywhere, among other miscellany. "Could you organise that?"
Alex hesitated for a moment. He didn't know the slightest thing about what garages needed – licences and all that. But it didn't take him long to make a decision. "Yes." He said, firmly. "I could."
Campbell paused again. "OK." He nodded, slowly. "You're on." He gave Alex a sharp look. "Start tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Alex said, quickly.
"I open up at seven; and you said you could come in early – can you be here at seven? You're going to have your work cut out for you, you know that?"
"I can do seven." Alex nodded, firmly. It would mean getting up at five thirty for the commute, but he could definitely do that.
"See you then, then." Campbell nodded, and turned away, dismissing Alex.
For his part, Alex was nervous, but relieved. It might not be that well paid – the flyer had promised £300 a week, but that was for a mechanic, not a secretary, so Alex was willing to bet that he'd be getting significantly less – but it was still a job, and far better than anything he'd expected. He'd just have to teach himself what was necessary as he went along.
He woke at five the next morning, to the alarm on his phone, a crick in his neck, and feeling like death warmed over; and it took all his will power to swing his legs over the side of the bed. Splashing cold water on his face, in lieu of a shower – he'd made it up the stairs last night, but it had been a near run thing, and he wasn't about to risk getting his cast wet, or falling over in the shower – he grabbed his keys and Oyster card, and headed out into the cool early-September morning.
When he got to the garage, Campbell was just opening up, and grinned at him, cheerfully. "Good at time keeping, huh?"
Alex offered him a strained smile, and flushed as his stomach rumbled, grateful that the noise was hidden by the sound of the main garage door grating open. He hadn't eaten since he left the hospital, and he was starving hungry – but he couldn't afford to eat until the end of this week, when he got his pay check.
"I'll just – get started then, OK?" he said, rather awkwardly, and slipped into the little office, pretending not to notice the worried little glance his new employer gave him.
Alex watched with half an eye as the mechanics arrived at work, most of his attention taken by the mammoth task he was beginning to realise lay ahead of him. Someone had, at some stage, tried to organise the garage, but the attempt had been half-hearted at best, and Alex was going to have difficulty sorting things out.
There were vague piles of things; the paper work long-term, registered clients was apparently shoved in the left hand corner of the desk, one-off's were scattered around the computer, and the other bits and pieces – licensing paperwork, bills, and so on – seemed to just be… everywhere else.
Alex was distracted from his paperwork when a shadow fell across the patch of light from the doorway. He looked up to see a man staring down at him, face hard, eyes a little confused.
"Who're you, then?" the man asked, rather harshly.
"Alex." He replied, calmly, voice level. "You?"
"Derek." There was a small pause. "What're you doing? Last I heard, Don advertised for another mechanic, not a bloody secretary."
Alex shrugged, and turned back to his inroad into the paperwork. "And I'll be a mechanic. Just as soon as I get this off my hand." He gestured with the cast, and Derek stared at it, looking more closely at his face.
"Jesus." He said, slowly. "What the fuck happened to you? You have a fight with a bus, or something?"
"Yes, actually." Alex said, quietly, and turned away.
And there it ends. A little abrupt, maybe - but there is a reason for that. :D
A quick note on Fox - I started this last August, roughly, way before Snakehead came out, and I'm quite attached to my version of Fox, so he will remain my version, and not Ben Daniels; sorry to anyone who was hoping for Ben! But the idea of having him be their contact at MI6 was ingenious.
Hope you enjoyed! Do tell. I have to go and have a driving lesson now, so I may never return. My teacher - poor bastard - will never be the same again. Wish me luck!
-ami xxx