A/N: Something that should've been mentioned in chapter one is that 'Agitato' is the musical notation for 'agitated', and I chose it because that describes Alex and Danielle very well.
This chapter was really fun to write because it also sets up for the next one! *excited writer dance*
Alex's blood transfusion is probably not entirely realistic for legal reasons, but the setup and procedure is accurate; I've had a few myself because I have a blood condition. It doesn't hurt, but it makes you insanely dizzy. Then again, I've had a massive migraine for the last two days and managed to bust my lip on the bathtub last night, so I'm pretty dizzy too at the moment xD
And school starts in. . . 5 days. . . and I have a ton of summer reading to do. Whoops.
Alex stared at the grain of the table top to avoid having to look at either Ben or Wolf, who sat across from him, and heaved a long-suffering sigh. At least the two SAS men were silent. Danielle watched him expectantly as he tried to connive as truthful an explanation as possible.
"My, uuh, my former employer. . . now my benefactor? I guess?"
Danielle interrupted him, eyes darkening in confusion. "Wait, like a sugar daddy?"
Alex felt his face redden considerably. "No. God, no. Not - not like that. Gah." he tugged at the ends of his hair. "I wasn't supposed to work for her, not legally. Usually she employs professionals eighteen and older, for liability reasons, but I was a special case. I brought endowments from competitions and other financial assets to her company."
"So why'd you leave?"
"She had me sign a contract," Alex continued. Well, that definitely wasn't a lie. "Not to tell any future employers who I worked for, not to mention her name or her organization, but I didn't get anything out of it. There are more lucrative options elsewhere."
"Ah." Danielle's hair swished around her shoulders as she nodded. "Like the Academy."
"Yes, which is how I was put in contact with-"
"Me."
"Exactly."
"She must be powerful," Danielle murmured. "Your former employer. If she has the SAS employed. That's what you called them, right?"
"Money buys a lot of things."
"Yes," she replied with unmistakable bitterness. "It does."
Everyone was silent for a few moments. Alex tried to curb the relief he felt at Danielle's staying because Ben still hadn't mentioned why he was here, and probably wouldn't while she was present.
You're being selfish, a voice nagged him. They'll use her against you too. Just like everyone else.
His brow furrowed.
Your presence is toxic.
He sighed. That, at least, was true.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Danielle finally asked, flicking her fingers out to Ben and Wolf. Alex gestured to each of the men in turn. "That's Ben, and that's Luke, otherwise known as Fox and Wolf. Code names," he added, seeing the question rise to her lips. "From when they were hired to protect me."
Alex glanced at him, then back to Danielle and Ben. "Tell your employer that her concern is noted, I'm fine, and that I am not interested in any further. . . opportunities."
Wolf suddenly pushed back his chair and stood. "That settles it then. Fox, we have an appointment at one."
"But Jo-"
"Look, the kid's not interested. He's made that abundantly clear."
A look passed between the two men that sent a foreboding chill racing down Alex's spine. MI6, and by extension K-Unit, never gave up that easily. They didn't take no for an answer, and even though he'd been gone for four years, Alex doubted much had changed when Blunt retired.
"Cub, we'll have to schedule a meeting with you sometime this week just to reaffirm certain clauses of that contract."
"You're not coming here again." This is my ground.
"Fine. Here's my card-" Ben pulled a business card and a pen from the breast pocket of his suit and scribbled something on the back. "Contact me by Friday. If not, I'll contact you." He slid it across the table.
Alex made no move to touch the card. Instead he nodded curtly and stood as if to show the SAS men out, though there was no need as Ben and Fox disappeared around the half wall and closed the door behind them.
Alex released a breath he hadn't realize"Alex?" Danielle asked, tentatively placing her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he mumbled.
"You never told me why you left that other place."
He stared at the table again. Oh, there was an answer to her question, one that he never admitted to anyone else and one that he didn't want to face himself.
"I was being used."
"I know how that feels," she replied, her voice softened in the manner of someone who gave their very soul away and had it returned in pieces.
Huh. Must've had a bad breakup or two along the way. Alex couldn't claim to empathize with that, having long given up on being left alone long enough to settle down with a girlfriend or a wife. Ben and Wolf's visit proved that theory to be the naive hope of a desperate soul.
Besides, he was only nineteen. He'd probably be dead before his twenties. . . no, bad thoughts. Thoughts that choked off everything else and taught him what suffocation felt like.
"Still up for lunch?" he asked to silence the demons in his mind.
"Sure," she shrugged. "I've got nothing else planned."
Alex slapped his hand down over the card and pulled it towards him. "I'll order."
Danielle, surprisingly, felt content.
She decided that she liked feeling this way, so instead of doing homework for the online classes she was enrolled in, she sat on the sofa in her pajamas watched a history documentary on the Battle of Britain.
Speaking of which, Alex bloody Rider. Talk about a battle. Danielle had the feeling that she narrowly avoided one yesterday in his flat, when he yelled at those two men with a gun practically glued to his hand. Then his explanation about an elusive tyrant of the music world, which didn't make Danielle feel any better about deciding to come to London even though it hadn't been much of a decision. More of an escape plan in case life back in Manchester went south - which it did. South enough, in fact, that it was currently swimming with penguins in Antarctica.
Her fingers absently traced the markings on her sweatpants. . Every time she tried to sleep, memories of chords and intricate melodies made her hands itch to play the piano.
Yesterday, Alex gave her the spare key to his studio so she could practice - no, sorry, rehearse - any time she needed to.
Now Danielle wondered if 'any time' extended to ungodly hours of the morning. The place had looked pretty well soundproofed, after all, and she could attach the mute if necessary.
"He probably wouldn't kill me. . ." she murmured thoughtfully to the TV, pushing herself off the couch and leaving, not bothering to change clothes.
Of course, it turned out that inserting the mute was slightly more arduous than she remembered -probably because the piano itself was half her height so she couldn't stretch very far- , so after half an hour of work, she stepped back - only to have the lid slam shut on her fingers.
Her cry of pain echoed through the flat. She wrenched her hand away. "Stupid, stupid expensive piece of wood!" she hissed, aiming a kick at it.
Danielle flexed her fingers and, though they definitely hurt, nothing seemed broken so she shrugged and sat at the now-silenced instrument. After putting on headphones and pressing play on a YouTube recording of the piece she wanted to practice, she spread her fingers over the keys, breathed, and began to play.
She practiced on the silent piano until her sore fingers could take no more.
Then she kept practicing with her right hand, the one that hadn't been pancaked by the heavy lid, and played the melody over and over until it became as natural and involuntary as breathing.
She didn't hear when her phone rang twelve times.
She didn't hear when the recording overpowered a blaring voicemail that claimed her rent check had bounced.
Again.
Alex dressed in the dark even though he'd been awake for hours already, then trekked up the stairs for his violin. Somehow he wasn't surprised to see Danielle there, headphones on, hunched over the piano with such focus that she didn't notice him entering or leaving.
Fairfield cemetery was only five blocks away in the yard of a derelict church that was tended to by an Italian stone mason (who bore a passing resemblance to Wolf and nearly sent Alex into cardiac arrest the first time he saw him) doubling as a gardener. Alex held his stepped through the gate and closed it, rusty hinges screeching as he did. He made his way between rows of graves, trying not to linger on the names of those laid to rest, to a small plaque in the middle of the third row. Most of the other graves were overgrown with tufts of dry brown grass or buried beneath fallen leaves; Jack's was the only one regularly tended.
Alex got to his knees and brushed a few leaves off the stone. Morning dew soaked into his jeans from the soft, springy grass just beginning to grow.
Jack Starbright
Her name was the only inscription. No date of birth, no year of death, no epitaph.
No body, either, because - Alex squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to remember - 40 kilograms of explosives incinerated any human being in the direct vicinity.
He used to have nightmares about the explosion almost every night. They were what drove him away from the Pleasures because he woke every night thrashing and crying out for someone who wasn't there.
He couldn't stand the pity hidden in their words and gestures every morning. Pity was too close to caring.
Caring was what got people killed around Alex.
Yes, he should probably send Danielle away, but -
This job is my only shot.
Shot at what?
Alex tried to forget those treacherous, distracting questions and gently removed his violin from the velvet-lined case, cradling it the way a mother did her newborn child.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed.
Leapt into the concert.
It truly was a leap. He felt like he was falling - no, not falling, flying in the freedom music always brings when swells and plunges towards a bottomless abyss where emptiness fills overflows with raw, powerful emotion until it drains itself as barren as sun-scorched deserts.
Mozart's 3rd Concerto for Violin.
Alex's first recital. Jack had taken him.
He lost himself, then, for half an hour of blessed oblivion.
For moments after the air resonated with bell-like notes, he stared down at the plaque hidden in the grass and tried to remember the good times with Jack - the recitals, her homemade pancakes - and not the last time he saw her.
Blasted MI6. Oh, there was a special place in hell for them. Hopefully not the same one he'd end up in.
Forget about them, Alex. he ordered himself as he packed up to leave. forget it, forget it, forget it!
The gate squeaked shut behind him.
Some inconsiderate idiot had parked their car halfway onto the sidewalk, so Alex was forced to hold his violin out in front of him and turn sideways to squeeze through the space between the car and the side of the church.
Suddenly, the driver's window shattered as a gloved fist punched through it and caught Alex in the chest, sending him falling back into the brick wall. His head smacked against it with a burst of pain.
Alex dropped into a crouch. The driver, garbed entirely in black, sprang from the car with a roundhouse kick that Alex barely rolled to avoid. He flipped onto his back and brought both of his legs up, kicking his attacker in the chest and using the momentum to spring to his feet. He threw his arms up to block another punch-
Which was only a feint.
And Alex fell for it, leaving his entire lower body open to the sharp knife that materialized in the attacker's other hand. The blade drove into his right side and sliced down, dragging a choked groan out of Alex. His head pounded, pulsing with pain. He was sure his heartbeat echoed in the alley.
He tried to twist sideways, to bring his elbow down on the man's arm, but it was too late. The man simply shoved at his shoulder, pushing Alex away from the blade, and got back into his car.
Less than ten seconds later, he was alone among shards of shattered glass.
And heavily bleeding.
"Hey!" footsteps approached. Alex let his head thunk back against the sidewalk. A stranger's face - male, bright hair, green eyes - blurred and twisted above him. "What the hell? Are you-"
"I'm fine." Massive lie, but what else could he say? The emergency room wasn't an option -they couldn't treat him without his medical records, which were classified, and St. Dominic's was across the city -
"Okay, it isn't a bad . . God, I wish El was here. She's a doctor for a reason. . ." the man -boy, actually, from the sound of his voice- rambled to himself as he hooked his arms beneath Alex's and hauled him to his feet. Alex grit his teeth at the increasing pain and, for the first time in a long time, didn't object to help.
"Get the violin," Alex muttered. "Please."
"Later. I have to get you to the hospi-"
"No. Bandages. Case. God!" Alex tried anything to distract himself and realized, almost half-deliriously, that his pain tolerance was much lower than it used to be. He was practically spoiled now with four years free of hospital visits.
Having caught on, the boy scrambled for Alex's violin case and yanked at the zipper for the top pocket. He yanked a set of bandages out and clumsily began dressing Alex's wound.
"Just - please." Alex found himself too tired to say anything else, and didn't really care to as long as he could sleep . . . yes, sleep sounded very nice.
"Mister," The kid's voice cut through the haze in his mind. "You gotta stay awake. You won't die, but the wound isn't, like, stopping. You've lost a lot of blood.."
Then hurry up, Alex said, but it came out as, "thn rhup."
Soon he felt a familiar pressure as he wrapped a bandage around his waist, binding a clot of cloth against the wound and securing it with enough force to hopefully staunch the bleeding.
"Who are you, anyways? Do all musicians carry first aid like that? Is it, like, a thing for you people? I heard you playing in the graves, I was inside the church. You ever been inside? It's a nice place - Oh - oh my God-" the boy glanced back at the church, wincing, and made some odd gesture with his hand, touching his forehead and shoulders. "Sorry, Lord," he muttered. "You're Alex Rider! My sister is going to freak, she's, like, a huge fan of yours! Has your CDs in her ward. Says the music gets through to the comatose ones-"
"Thanks," Alex grit out, just to cut him off. His head spun.
"I'm Charles. My sister's Elizabeth." he rushed the words out on a single breath, even though Alex didn't ask and hadn't intended to. He just wanted to leave. "Do you need a ride to the hospital?"
Alex took a deep breath and found that it cleared some of the fog in his head. "It's fine. I can - take care of it. At - ah, ow - at home."
"You're joking."
He shook his head and, with great difficulty, dragged himself off the stairs. Immediately the street started wobbling. Alex barely grabbed the railing in time to avoid pitching forward onto his face. He took another breath. Then another. Then he lifted his violin away from Charles- when did it become so heavy? - and managed to stagger a few paces away.
"Not the first time this has happened." Why did he say that?
"Are you some kind of ninja violinist?" Charles hopped to his feet and trailed after him. "And what's with all the glass on the sidewalk?"
"Shouldn't you -dammit- be in school?"
The kid at least had the decency to blush. "Ah, yeah. Well. About that. It's not skipping, technically, if they think you're ill -"
Alex winced, but it had nothing to do with his side. He'd been there before. More times than he liked to remember. "You're what, twelve?"
Charles gave him an insulted look. "Fourteen."
"Apologies."
"Are you always so snippy?"
"Only when someone's skewered me."
Charles rolled his eyes, scuffing his shoe alone a crack in the sidewalk. "Do you live around here? I'd think a musician would live somewhere a lot nicer."
"Close enough."
"How old are you?"
does he ever shut up? "Old enough."
"Close enough. Old enough. I suppose you're good enough at your job?"
Not for Jack. Alex huffed. "Can I borrow your phone?"
"Sure."
The numbers on the keypad blurred, and it took him a few tries to dial, then he held the phone up to his ear. A familiar voice answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"
"Tom?"
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"It's Alex. Listen, I'm borrowing some kid's phone, so could you just meet me at my flat?"
A breath crackled through the line. "Are you okay?"
"I'm alive." Alex hung up before Tom could ask anything else, and handed the phone back to Charles. "Thanks, kid."
Charles looked at him incredulously, shaking his head, and slowly curled his fingers around the phone. "This is the weirdest day ever."
"That makes two of us." Alex tried to walk quicker, but gave up on that after his legs almost gave out. He felt Charles watching him so he ducked into an alley to cut over to a parallel street. What was a kid doing inside an abandoned church in the middle of March? Especially in this part of town which, though it was less than a kilometer away from Alex's flat, was less than pleasant for anyone, least of all for a child.
"Not my problem," he said, drawing odd glances from a pair of woman who walked past him. He ignored them. Not every odd thing is my problem. Most of it isn't even my business. Nope. Not my division.
He started the trek back to his flat. Tom should be there soon. Alex gritted his teeth, already dreading the inevitable encounter with his best - and perhaps his only - friend, even if Tom was the only person who could help him.
After she was done practicing, Danielle hurried down to the pharmacy, blissfully ignoring the piles of textbooks and random sheets of paper scattered on top of her desk.
University work could definitely wait because, Heaven above, her hand hurt. Almost worse than her wrist had when it was - well. Nope, she refused to think about that.So, the pharmacy it is.
She grabbed gauze and a finger splint from the shelves of the small store, which was a block away from her flat, and waited in the checkout line, humming quietly to herself.
"I'm sorry, Miss. Your card's declined."
Danielle stopped humming. "Pardon?"
"Your card. Says it's canceled."
"What - no - . . . I didn't-"
"Just telling you what it says." The cashier was a young girl, no older than Danielle had been when she started working. "No money, no purchases."
Her brain screeched to a halt.
Danielle numbly dropped the supplies on the counter. She had to get out, get out, get out! Just like Alex yelled.
Except, not out of his flat. Out of that store into the fresh air.
Then she saw it.
A flash of white hair across the street.
Could it be - ? No. No, she took the latest train there was, and scoured the station before leaving.
It couldn't be.
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly shaking despite the warm rain that misted down from the soggy clouds, and tried not to cry.
Thirteen messages blinked as she opened her phone to call the credit company. There had to be a mistake.
She opened the voicemail and pressed the phone to her ear.
*Lady, I've called you three times. Your rent check? The one I gave you an extra week to write? Yeah, it bounced. Your stuff needs to be out of your flat by tomorrow morning or I'll throw it out myself -*
She gasped aloud, a ragged noise muffled by the now-torrential downpour, and jammed her phone back into her pocket. Her hands shook.
Static echoed in her ears, the symphony of a world as it crashed to the ground.
Alex collapsed on the edge of the bathtub and held his face in his hands. He'd finally, finally got away from Charles by dodging into his building and making it into the lift before the kid had a chance to see which one.
He'd forgotten just how much being stabbed hurt.
A few minutes later he sat up, sniffed hard, and reached for the special cabinet beneath the sink. The door was heavy, and a rush of cold air flowed out of the cooling drawer.
Several bags of crimson blood sat inside, each attached to a short silicone hose with a clamp on one end. There was also a box of hypodermic needles, also chilled, and a latex strip.
Alex heard his door open and the rustling of plastic bags as someone set their groceries down and meandered back through his room.
Tom Harris came to a sudden halt in the doorway. "What the hell, Alex?" He didn't sound very surprised.
Alex weakly smiled at his friend. "Hey. Remember that one time that you helped me with this? I need your help again. Please?"
Tom raised a single dark eyebrow. "Please. Wow. Sure you're not dying?"
Alex tried to make a particularly rude gesture, but it just made him dizzier. He grasped a pint of blood in one hand and held out the latex band to Tom.
Tom sighed and tied the rubber around Alex's upper arm, making his veins bulge out. Alex made a soft hissing noise as he inserted one of the needles into the largest vein and attached the silicone hose that was grafted onto the pint bag.
Tom took the bag, held it aloft, and removed the clamp. Viscous blood began dripping down the hose, through the needle, and into Alex's arm.
"What happened this time?" Tom asked. "I'm guessing this is why you called."
"I don't know. Guy came out of nowhere. Stabbed me."
"Stabbed?"
"In the side."
"Like a kabob of illegal former MI6 employee."
"Something like that." Alex's eyes slid shut and he slumped against the side of the sink, fighting off a yawn. "Tired."
Tom gently nudged his other arm. "Sleep later, after you tell me when to turn this thing off."
Alex shot him a withering look, but Tom merely smirked in response to a glare that sent most people running for the hills.. "You know, now I can put 'Emergency nurse to Alex Rider' on my resume."
"Death sentence."
"Oh, come off it. You've saved thousands of people."
Alex was too tired to argue.
The next few minutes passed in companionable silence until Alex finally sat up and pointed to the bag. Tom reclamped it. Alex sloppily shoved the supplies back into the cool box and shut the door.
"Thanks," Alex muttered as Tom helped him stand.
"You know, Alex, most people don't have pints of their own blood sitting around." Tom glanced at him.
"Most people don't have to worry about that."
Suddenly the doorbell echoed throughout the flat - once, twice, three times in rapid succession.
"I'll check." Alex made his way to the door, tried to rub the blurriness out of his eyes as he fumbled for the handle and tugged on it.
Danielle stood there, sodden and shivering, her eyes rimmed with red. She cradled her left hand close to her chest, just like in the cafe. "Danielle? What happened?"
She shook her head, covering her eyes to wipe away tears. "I-it's gone," she stuttered. Her teeth chattered and shivers wracked her arms. "My credit cards. Bank account. It's all gone. My rent check bounced. I - I have to go back, Alex." her voice cracked. "I can't go back. I can't."
Alex wrapped his arm around her shoulders, as much for his own support as to comfort her. The room swayed nauseatingly.
She shuddered against him as he drew her into his apartment and nudged the door shut. Tom stood in the kitchen, hands limp at his sides, and looked from Danielle to Alex.
"Alex? Didn't tell me you had a girlfriend."
"She's my accompanist."
"Ah."
"Danielle," Alex focused on not sounding as exhausted as he felt as he guided her to the couch. "What happened?"
He saw the fingers of her left hand were red and swollen, and his stomach clenched, though not from nausea. "Danielle?"
A sob burst out from between her lips. "All my savings. Gone. He's - he's going to kill me."
Her words sickened Alex as he slowly pushed himself up, arms trembling from the sudden strain. Wait - since when did he have two coat hooks? And. . who was the other person beside Tom? Or were there two Toms?
Blinking hard, Alex felt his eyes water as his vision blurred, doubled, then returned to normal. His stomach heaved and he pressed a fist to his mouth, willing himself not to vomit. He'd been fine when Charles had bandaged him up - but then again, shock was one hell of a drug.
"W-where are you going?" Danielle sniffed.
"The bank," he replied through clenched teeth, trying to give Tom a look. "This is Tom. He's - he'll stay. With you." Alex managed to grit out short bursts of words. "Till I come back."
Damn MI6. Damn them.
And, here we are! Pay attention to Charles - he'll be important ;)
Review replies (just a few because I've gotta go to the doctors like, now)
Op-fan - your review made my day. Thank you so much! *happy squealing*
Guest - thank you! I'm very glad you like it :)
As always, please continue to review and a big THANK YOU! to everyone who's done so on previous chapters. Next update coming Tuesday, which is the last Tuesday of summer for me. *internal screaming intensifies*