Disclaimer: I do not now nor ever will own the Alex Rider series. Happy?
Okay. We're back with Alex, finally. And I've left a little hanger in there but don't despair! I'm gonna update again so soon you won't even notice the gap. Enjoy and be sure to read the author's note at the end. Chapter title from 'In My Place'- 'Coldplay'. Which is a great song for Ella in this chapter.
When John came round, he quickly realized three things.
Alex was now in a serious huff. In fact, he'd barricaded himself in his room and begun thrown things around. Heavy things. A couple of hippos from the sound of it. He'd cursed profusely through the door at Wolf and his American partner, which had upset the fierce, red-haired woman. The worst part was John had a nasty feeling she blamed him. She'd been throwing him filthies since he'd blinked back into reality.
Ian had vanished into thin air at the worst possible time. He slouched off somewhere, apparently claiming to have forgotten his cigarettes. John knew for a fact he didn't smoke. So the question wasn't really where he'd gone. It was what in the name of mother and child he'd abandoned his brother for? John figured it was a just revenge for all the 'baby brother' introductions he'd delivered throughout their lifetime.
The third was that his head felt like a baby elephant had taken a nap on it, his shoes were missing, the stitches on his chest had split open for the fourth time in two days, he was wearing odd socks when he was sure he'd put on a matching pair that morning, he was covered in blood from his swelling nose, he felt very sick, his face ached and, somewhat bizarrely, he had a feeling something momentous had happened while he'd been out cold. And he felt every single one of his forty four years.
Why did the strangest things happen to him when he was unconscious?
"Sorry about the whole punch in the face thing, mate. Look, d'you want me to get you frozen peas or something? And you might want to, uh, get something done for your nose. It looks sort of, off" Wolf said, disappearing after awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.
The American girl stooped beside John, where he lay propped on the sofa. She had a frown painted on her face and anger seeped from her very pores but she seemed resigned to hating him silently.
"Look, if I've done something to upset you, I'm very sor-"
"Oh, you've done more than upset me! You asshole! I can't believe anyone could be such a bonehead! You fucked off and left your children when you could have stayed! You just shed them like the bastard that you are! And then, you waltz back in to Alex's life, after ten bloody years and expect him to just worship the ground you walk on, you stupid, moronic, git! You come and upset him like that! At least when you were dead, you hadn't left him by fucking choice!" she snapped, tilting his face so that she could get a better look at his nose.
For several minutes, everything was quiet. The only thing that disrupted complete silence was the occasional bang or crash from Alex's room. This was usually accompanied by a wince from the American. Wolf's muttered curses in the kitchen helped fill the huge void.
John wished Ian hadn't done a bunk at the first opportunity. He probably had good reason. Still, it was unfair that John had to try on his own to fix things. Totally unfair. In fact, Ian was going to owe him big time. Bigger than any other time he'd owed him before. He couldn't help wondering what it was that had sent his brother away so quickly. They were still good for a few more days. MI5 were hunting for them in Cairo. Scorpia in Brazil. They had time.
"It's broken. But it looks like a clean split. I'll get Wolf to drive you to the hos-"
Jack's voice broke into John's reverie and he reached up, brushinghis fingers against his nose. Hmmm. It felt tender. With one quick jerk, he snapped it sharply to the side. With a loud click the bones realigned neatly. It would probably swell and feel very sore for a few days but hopefully, John would avoid hospital.
The American made a disgusted face and narrowed her eyes. Wolf appeared in the doorway and tossed a bag of frozen peas that John caught effortlessly. Still got the old magic he thought smugly. All Riders had excellent reflexes.
"Can I just ask what the hell happened to my shoes?" John asked, eying the socks casually adorning his feet suspiciously.
Wolf grinned and the American sniffed angrily before stalking out of the room. Wolf collapsed onto the sofa beside John and smiled apologetically. John accepted the silent gesture and signalled half heartedly at the door of the living room.
"Where's Alex?" he asked gently, probing the situation delicately.
"He's...in...his...room" Wolf replied, each word punctuated by a clatter louder than it should have been.
"I thought he'd be just the tiniest bit pleased to see me. I guess I sort of misjudged the emotions of a fourteen year old boy" John said, swallowing his pride. He had no idea what he was doing. He'd been so caught up in his own life and anger and hatred that he hadn't even stopped to consider that it might upset Alex to see him.
"Wouldn't blame you. Look, again, I'm sorry about decking you. I just, well, I was a little angry. But I guess we just got off on the wrong foot. My name's James. James Byrne. But everyone calls me Wolf. And my charming fiance, Jack" Wolf said awkwardly, removing his hand from his pocket to offer it to John.
"Wolf? Are you army or something?" John asked, taking the pro-offered limb and shaking it solidly.
"Yeah. SAS. You a military man yourself or d'you go straight to MI6?" Wolf asked, socking his hand back into his pocket. A grin slithered onto his face at the idea that he was now on converstation topics he found understandable.
"I went into 2 Para when I finished Uni. Got the invitation letter on my birthday. I was thrilled. I actually planned to go with the SAS once I got my epaulets. But MI6 approached me and I couldn't say no, could I?" John said, his gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling.
"You do any tours or just training?" Wolf asked suspiciously.
"Of course. Falklands. Northern Ireland. Lebanon. Even spent a month on the Russian border. You see much combat?" John replied with a question, shifting slightly in his seat. He listened for another clash from Alex's room but none came. Either he'd calmed down or he'd run out of things to throw that made obscene amounts noise.
"Yeah. Did two tours of Afghanistan. Iraq. Trained in Brecon Beacons. Security for the PM for a few weeks. Raids. That sort of stuff" Wolf replied, sitting down beside John on the sofa. There was a sort of lean-to familiarity between the pair that only soldiers seemed to be able to develop after two minutes of talking.
"Catch any bullets?" John asked, shifting himself across a cushion to give Wolf some more space. There was the clatter he'd been listening for.
"Of course. Two in my leg and one in my chest. Perforated an eardrum too. Grenade went off right beside my head. Not something I'd like to repeat" Wolf chuckled. From nowhere he offered John a can of Budweiser and smiled. John took it, nodding his thanks. He decided it was best not to tell Wolf that he was a recovering alcoholic. He'd do the polite thing and just ignore the can.
"James Michael Byrne, I told you to get your big head out that door and down to the corner shop twenty minutes ago! We need tea bags, toilet roll and milk. Go on! Honestly, my mother was right when she told me that-"
Jack's voice trailed off as she bustled around the apartment and Wolf got to his feet and winked at John.
"Doesn't do to give the missus any bother. I'll be back in a bit. You can stick on the telly if you want" Wolf said, stepping into a pair of trainers. He wandered out of the room and John eyed the strange socks again, tilting his head to one side. That was a real puzzle. He scanned the room and located his shoes beside the radiator, heaving himself up to put them back on. He cursed loudly at the sight of blood seeping through his shirt and grunted, sitting back down again.
"What's wrong with you?"
John looked up, startled. Alex had snuck up on him, his face more childlike and innocent than it had been before. He didn't look furious anymore. John patted the sofa cushion beside him and Alex ignored it, perching pointedly on the armchair furthest from the sofa. John sighed. He hated the wary, suspicious look he'd brought into Alex's eyes.
"I was shot not long ago. The bullet missed my lung by a fraction of an inch. I just about survived" John told him, scratching the back of his neck, awkward at discussing the wound. Alex stared at the blood and frowned, getting up again.
"I'll get you a towel" he said. John flapped his hand, gesturing for him to sit down again. After a minute of consideration, Alex did.
"Don't. Your... Jack is already pissed off enough with me. I don't need to destroy a towel. Thanks for the offer, though. So...Alex...Have you spoken with Jamie since...since he was taken?" John asked, even more uncomfortable. Alex glanced over sharply, his eyes wide and worried.
"Jamie wasn't taken. He left with Yassen Gregorovich" he replied, stilling in his chair. John's breath wheezed out of him. The truth always hit him hard in the chest. It hurt even more coming from Alex than it did from Ian. It drove away any hope John could muster, that Yassen had kidnapped Jamie. He swallowed, the taste of bile creeping up his throat, and forced a smile at Alex.
"Yes. But have you had any contact with him? It's just that I've been waiting for him to call me a while now. He's a bit hard to get in touch with, y'know? Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I just wanted to ask if you'd spoken with him but I suppose not. Can I ask you though, why am I wearing odd socks?" John said, running a hand backwards through his hair. The blood was slowing now.
"Oh. Oh. Yeah. Jack doesn't like people wearing shoes inside and your socks had a hole in them so she did a bit of covert action" Alex said, his lips twitching. John chuckled at the motherly touch and scanned his son properly for the first time.
He was tall. And good looking. Alex looked like him. But he had Helen's eyes. It hurt to look at them. Alex looked happy and loved and well-cared for, three adjectives John couldn't use to describe himself. Happy if you didn't take into account his eyes. They were older. Serious. His hair was clean and shiny, lighter than John's. It was longer than Jamie's hair, hanging over Alex's eyes in bangs. Jamie didn't have bangs. He pushed his fringe up with gel, his hair close cropped like...Yassen's. Stop thinking about him. You're with Alex! John wondered dimly if Alex had a girlfriend.
"Right. Okay. I just wondered. Um... Alex, I have a huge favour to ask of you. But first, I'd like to tell you a little story..."
Ella held her knees to her chest, whimpering quietly. The drip in her arm was painful, uncomfortable, intrusive. She scratched her nose absently and stared out the glass panelling to where her brother and sister hugged on the sofa. They looked strange, without their hair.
"Miss you Els. Dad's...not so good" Max said, his voice distorted by the glass. Ella whimpered again and reached up to her own hair. A few clumps came away at her touch and she started to cry again. What the hell will Jamie say when he sees that I've gone bald before him!?
Ella couldn't even speak. Her throat was dry and scratchy. Her hair was an untidy, gluey mess. She felt horrible. She wanted Jamie. Godamn him! Why was he never there for her!? She needed him now! She wondered if Yassen had found him. Probably. Yassen would find an individual needle in a stack of needles. Daniil had visited her at some stage, she thought. She wasn't too sure though.
She curled further into a ball and whimpered again. In the height of her fever she reached out, positive Jamie was beside her. Smirking. Snickering. She found herself replaying the good moments. Ice skating in Moscow. Snorkeling in Australia. Christmas in Paris. The water parks in Spain. Horse riding. Swimming. Sun bathing. Surfing. Dancing at one of Julia Rothman's mandatory-attendance parties.
He made the bad things sweeter. Being forced to go to stupid black tie parties was torture but with his arms around her, leading her expertly in a dance, whispering how beautiful she looked in her ear, everyone looking at them; it was perfect. He'd fought for her in clubs when other boys got grabby. He'd cleaned her up after a high. He never judged her.
And the bad. Fighting on the Eiffel Tower. Arguing in Sydney. Slapping him in Moscow. The night he left her for his 'mission'. The club where he bought another girl a drink. The time he went psycho just because another guy bought her a drink. Cheating on him, again and again because she was lonely and felt scorned. The guilt when he'd come back. She wondered vacantly if she hated him.
It would be easier. Easier. She listened as the bleeping machines wired to her slowed. And slowed. And slooooooooowed. And. Stopped?
OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhh. Do you all hate Ella? I'm not really sure about her myself.
I have three big things to tell you.
-Firstly, I know exactly what's going to happen from now on. I just have to get out the chapters presentably. And the next story has begun already. So far it's untitled but I can tell you it will be set in the future and will contain some new characters. Also, it will most likely be the last Alex-Jamie story I write. So it'll probably be a trilogy, peoples.
-Secondly, I have bad news. If you are reading any of my other stories please be aware of these deletions: Untitled for now, any suggestions?- Top Of The Pile To The Bottom Of The Heap- Whatever It Takes and Southern Boy. That's it for now.
-Thirdly, the story between Spider's Web and Knife's Edge is going to be up soon. I can tell you it will be called 'Snapshot'. And seriously, I'd love it if you'd read it.
That's it for now. Thanks for reading and, as always, reviews are loved.