Alex arrived at LAX a good three and a half hours before his flight to Australia was due to depart. He looked like a backpacker complete with his copy of the rough guide. Alex had spoken to his godfather on the phone to say he was going backpacking and Ash had agreed to meet him when he arrived in Sydney to catch up. Alex remembered a distant man talking with Ian and Jack, but barely saying anymore than hello to the son of his supposed best friend.
At check in, the first reminder of his infamous past lifted his head. "Ahh Mr. Rider, you have been upgraded to first class Complimentary of Mr Branson himself, he hopes you have a good holiday in Australia."
"Thanks. Thank you, very much. I don't know what to say. Its a real surprise." Alex was not going to refuse a bump from tourist to luxury.
He was escorted to the other check in and his back pack was taken by a member of the ground staff. Alex was then escorted through to the first class lounge. Alex texted Edward to tell him of his good fortune. The journalist was staying an extra couple of days in LA to hammer out the film deal. Alex had four copies of his poetry book and so posted one to Virgin for the attention of as a thank you. As he waited for boarding, Alex sat and read through his copy of the rough guide ignoring the businessmen and other passengers. After watching Ray Meers and Bush Tucker Man on the TV, he really wanted to go walkabout in the outback.
It was a long flight over fifteen hours. Alex tried to sleep, but couldn't shake a low persistent stomach ache, after two paracetamol he finally got some much needed sleep. The stewardess kept checking on the sweaty mumbling teenager. The occasional word of russian could be distinguished. When she attempted to wake the young man with a light touch, he jumped about two foot away from her suddenly wide awake.
"Umm sorry. Bad dreams" apologised Alex as the stewardess sorted out Alex's chair/bed. Alex went to the bathroom, and steeled himself for the extremely small space. Alex was mortified when he threw up on landing. Maybe it was just motion sickness.
A member of the ground crew delivered his back pack on a trolley and Alex waited for his customs check.
He mumbled his answers as his bag was scanned, then unpacked. Alex sweated and winced. "Are you OK Mr Rider?"
"Arghh, stomach ache. Its getting pretty bad. I think I need some better painkillers." Alex shifted on his feet trying to alleviate the pain. "Its been a long flight." The customs staff repacked his bag, asking about his travel plans and if someone was there to pick him up. "My godfather texted. He should be here."
At this point Alex doubled over in pain and fell forward.
Alex was on the floor curled into a ball. Someone was asking questions. He didn't care, it hurt to breathe.
There were people touching him. "Please don't touch me! Leave me alone."
"Alex we're paramedics. We need to examine you."
Alex slowly relaxed and a pair of hands loosened his clothing, exposing flesh. Gloved fingers touched his stomach, pressing into the flesh. Suddenly, Alex screamed and passed out.
The two federal police men waited to see if the medical emergency was a drug concealment. "You can go home, guys. Its an appendicitis. Mr Rider's in surgery now."
Alex came too. Hospital..It smelled like Hospital. The regular beeps were increasing in rapidity. He moved and pain shot up his right hand side and he gasped. Bad idea. Do not move. He sucked in air in sharp breaths and the pain slowly receded. He cracked opened his eyes to a bright white room and a nurse was asking him questions. Alex swore in russian. Someone told him to speak english. "Fuck off, you cock sucking cunts, Leave me the fuck alone."
"OK go back to sleep, sport."
When, Alex next awoke. He was so thirsty. The nurse let him suck on ice chips and then Alex answered their questions. A meal was brought and Alex refused to eat.
The doctor looked over Alex's medical notes on the computer. The most recent entry mentioned a voluntary stay at a Therapy Centre in England. The kid was seriously fucked up. He put a call through to the specialist psychiatrist upstairs.
"Mr Howell, I'm Dr. Richards. You're down as Alex Rider's next of kin."
"Right, I didn't know that." Ash shifted nervously, he had not seen Alex for ten years.
"Mr Rider is emancipated, but there are some concerns about his mental well being. How much do you know about Alex's medical history?"
"Not much. I know he spent some time in hospital after his abduction but apart from that nothing." Ash knew operational details but nothing personal.
"Alex has serious issues that have included two suicide attempts and several incidents of self harm. He has been sectioned to a mental health facility three times and has been a voluntary patient twice. It has been noted on his file that he has some issues with alcohol and drug abuse."
"Shit!" Ash swore "I didn't know any of this."
"Alex has control issues, and currently we think he is controlling his intake of food. If he doesn't start eating, we would like you to have him committed again."
"Can I talk to him about this?" asked Ash.
"We would appreciate if you could lay down some ground rules. If he eats regular meals for the next three days we will release him into your custody with the understanding you will get him to eat. Any lapses and he will need further psychiatric treatment."
Ash looked at the young man in the hospital bed, who was far too thin. Alex really did look like his father, "Hey Alex, I hear you're not eating hospital food?"
"I'm not hungry." Alex could not face eating slop.
"Are you controlling your food intake?" Ash continued using the terms the doctor had used to describe Alex's suspected anorexia.
Shit, Prichard left notes didn't he. Alex avoided confirming the obvious "I'm just shit at remembering to eat."
"They bring food to you here." Ash smiled at having caught Alex out.
"I guess I'm going to have to eat, aren't I." Alex still felt sore and nauseous. Bad food, sorry any food was not wanted at the moment.
"You are if you don't want a padded cell with your name on it." Ash added the ultimatum.
"They been threatening?"
"Very much so. Tell me whats been going on with you, Alex. How are you doing?"
"Coping. I get by. I just can't seem to thrive at the moment."
Alex found he could talk to his mysterious godfather. The man didn't judge Alex and his crummy past actions. For half an hour, Ash got the background about suicide attempts, self harm, the clinic in Israel, Foster placements, running away and living on the streets, the unit at Great Ormond Street, school, children's home, and boot camp, more therapy at St. Jude's. "So you don't know any of this?"
"No after you didn't contact me. I thought you'd been placed in a happy home environment and were OK." Ash had just got on with his life thinking his godson had been fine.
"I never knew you wanted me. CAFCASS kept your letters. You were never discussed in my placement meetings. I only found out after I left my last foster placement and went into digs in the spring. I could have been here three years ago. I bet you would not have sent me to a fucking boarding school or boot camp." Alex complained. He had a funny feeling that Ash would have let him run wild.
"You didn't mind hospital then?" Ash noted.
"They cared, nobody else did. I was just trouble. At the children's home, they didn't care if I didn't eat or sleep. I spent three days straight in my room over Christmas and only Spike checked on me, mostly to scrounge cigarettes. Out of the ten days I was there I ate seven meals in total. I guess I've been anorexic for three years. Fuck I need to see a shrink again." Alex dutifully ate the horrible hospital food, continued his chats with Ash and spoke with the shrink about his strange eating habits. Alex explained that Jack had fed him a strange mix of food, mostly cold and quickly prepared, a mix of pasta, stir-fry, sandwiches and salad. He just did not like standard meals. Pasta and takeaway pizza was as normal as Alex got.
The next day Edward visited with a friend, a freelance journalist, Dimitri Kostas, who was tall dark and handsome. If Alex had felt better he would have flirted. Edward had finished the interviews alone and was going back to London. He commiserated with Alex, three weeks recuperation to be spent with Ash rather than holidaying.