Rating: M

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me and I make no money with it.

Warnings: Blood. Death. Disturbing imagery. Please don't read if you get squeamish about any of those things easily.

Summary: He gave himself a moment to think that it would have been so, so nice if for once everything had just went according to plan.

Date: Dec. 30th - 3 am, between Silence and Memory (Timeline: http :/ shiruy. livejournal. com/ 3602. html)

Edited: 08.12.10

8. Innocence

Alex Rider was slowly making his way up the stairs, his cold, stiff hands buried in his pockets. He could have taken the elevator, but every minute he could avoid facing Barner again was a minute well spent, and their suite was only on the third floor anyway.

Part of him was still angry, but mostly he was just frustrated and resigned. He thought about the contract he had signed, the training Mrs. Jones wanted to put him through. He'd meet other agents or agents-to-be there. Would they all treat him like Barner? Like a stupid kid playing games, somehow using his daddy's influence to get into these training sessions? What a thing to look forward to.

If he could have he would have stayed out all night, but while he did somewhat know the city since he had been here with Ian before - and wasn't that just cruel irony? - it was below freezing outside and in his haste to leave their suite he had only grabbed one of their nearly identical MI6-issue coats, which then, to top it all off, had turned out to be Barner's. By now it was nearly three o'clock in the morning and while he had changed out of the fine clothes he had to wear for the gala into something warmer and considerably more comfortable, with only a coat he felt frozen solid after wandering about the town for a little more than three hours.

He climbed up the stairs and stopped in front of the glass door leading into the hotel corridor their suite was located on, sighing deeply. If he was lucky, Barner had already gone to sleep. He didn't want to face the man. He didn't want to fight with him again. He didn't want to feel like he had to explain anything about his life or about how he had gotten involved with MI6 or even about Ian. These were private things, and Barner had no right to demand answers from him.

Steeling his resolve to not let that prick get to him again he opened the door with his keycard and quietly slipped down the hallway, making no noise on the thick carpet. They were in one of the upper scale hotels in the city center as befitting of their cover, for which Alex was rather grateful. He didn't want to imagine having to return to a cold or barely heated ratty hotel room after this whole thing.

Pondering about his recent experience with sleeping in roach-invested rooms and dealing with the rather hysteria-inducing sensation of having giant rats climb all over him, he wandered down the corridor, not really paying attention-

Until his feet suddenly stopped dead.

With a start he looked up, his senses jumping into overdrive as he took in every tiny detail of the hallway. It was well-lit, the walls a neutral cream colour, all of the doors closed and there were no visible marks on the blue carpet. And still he was absolutely sure that something was wrong.

Moving forward cautiously, he stopped when he reached the door to suite number fourteen and slowly looked around again. Nothing seemed out of place. The decorative plants hadn't been moved, none of the door knobs appeared scuffed as they would have been had someone attempted to break in, the cameras placed at regular intervals were...

The cameras. They hadn't changed position once since he had entered the hallway. They weren't doing their usual sweeps. Someone had frozen them.

For a few long seconds he simply stood there, mind racing.

There were three scenarios that were the most likely. Number one, it was a simple technical failure and the hotel would get it fixed in the morning. Number two, the security officer responsible for watching the cameras had intentionally frozen the cameras, which meant that there had to be some - most likely to Alex detrimental - reason for it. Number three, someone had hacked the cameras and fed them a loop, which meant that the security officer thought that nothing was amiss.

Whatever it was, he had to warn Barner. They would be better off leaving the hotel as quickly as possible, even if it was slightly paranoid. Better crazy than dead.

Searching through the coat pockets, he got out the key card to their room and went to swipe it through the scanner, but then he noticed that it wasn't the right card at all. He blinked in surprise and took a closer look at it; it was white just like the hotel's card, but aside from a small eight-digit number on the front and the magnetic stripe on the back there was nothing on it to mark its purpose. Frowning, he put it into the inner pocket of his jeans, got out the real room card and opened the door.

The second he entered it became glaringly obvious that whatever had happened, it was already over.

The living room had been ransacked, and it wasn't hard to imagine that the same had happened to their rooms with both the doors thrown wide open. For a moment he just stood there and took in the methodical destruction of every single object in the room. Then he gave himself a mental shake and concentrated on what was really important.

A quick glance into their rooms showed that Barner wasn't in either room and he quietly allowed himself to begin hoping. Maybe the agent had escaped. Or maybe he hadn't been here either. Maybe he had followed Alex and was still outside somewhere, searching for the teen. It was possible, wasn't it?

Then he noticed that while the door to his adjacent bathroom was open, Barner's was closed.

Dread settled into him like a heavy weight. Slowly and reluctantly, he walked over and noticed the sound of the shower running. If anything, it made him feel even worse.

He gave himself a moment to think that it would have been so, so nice if for once everything had just went according to plan. Then he decisively opened the door and stepped into the room.

Directly into a puddle of blood.

For several long seconds he was completely frozen, his eyes fixed on an arching red spatter on the opposite wall. Then he slowly, very, very slowly, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The air inside the room was thick, steamy and was heavy with the smell of sweet copper. His stomach clenched.

Why couldn't he just have a normal mission for once? Why couldn't he just... not have to face this? Why couldn't he be home right now, safe and warm in his own bed with Jack just two rooms over? Had he done anything to deserve this? Or was there some kind of bored deity up there somewhere thinking 'Oh well, that kid is so fucked up already anyway, no use in getting some other innocent little boy and corrupting his sanity'?

He opened his eyes and took in the room. The shower was running and the sliding doors weren't closed, which meant that half the bathroom was covered in a light spray of water. The other half of the bathroom was covered in one large puddle of blood, originating from Barner's slit throat. The man was lying on his side halfway between the shower stall and the door. It looked like he had been crawling forward, trying to reach help.

Alex took slow, shallow breaths through his mouth and stepped further into the room. It had been ransacked just as thoroughly as the others, but unfortunately he couldn't see any bloody fingerprints anywhere. Either they had been very careful when they had slit Barner's throat or they had been wearing gloves. Crouching down next to the naked body, he placed his fingers on the man's pulse points, knowing already that it was useless. Barner was as dead as someone could possibly be.

It did tell him something else though. The body was still warm, around room temperature, but that could be explained away with the hot, steamy air in here. A quick - and very, very, very reluctant - check of the eyelids confirmed it though. Despite the noticeably higher than average temperature, rigor mortis hadn't even started to set in yet. Which meant that Barner had been dead for about an hour at most.

Alex had probably just missed whoever had done this.

His hands were shaking when he stood up and he had to swallow several times to keep from throwing up. Very determinedly not paying attention to the blood-splattered walls, he located a small towel, snatched it from the rail and walked back to the door sill. There, he methodically first cleaned the sole of his left shoe before placing it outside on the carpet, then he did the same with the right. Later on, he would throw the towel away in some random dumpster.

If he left any bloody footprints and the people who had done this came back they would immediately know that he'd been here.

Once again closing the bathroom door behind him, he walked back into his room and checked if any of his stuff could still be useful. He found a rather big black hoodie which he quickly pulled on over the comparatively thin long-sleeved shirt he had been wearing before. His MI6 issued phone was smashed to bits, so that rendered calling in for help impossible. At least he still had his own phone on him. The only other marginally useful thing he could find were fingerless gloves, which he swiftly pulled on as well. He still had his wallet with enough money and his false passport in his back pocket.

That done, he gave all the rooms another once-over. Whoever had done this [Weller?], they had obviously been searching for something and judging by the state of the rooms, they hadn't found it. Alex didn't intend to still be here when they inevitably came back.

He shrugged the [dead man's] coat back on and left.