I'm so sorry for the length between updates! I've had exams so I haven't written anything for ages. Plus I had writers block. I hope you still stick with this story. This chapter is a bit of a filler chapter, and is a bit short. I hope you enjoy it.

Rest and Recovery

Alex awoke in his own bed. Doctor Clarkson was sitting beside him this time, not Tom. He felt awful; tired and achy, with a dry mouth and throat. His pain medication had obviously been cut down, because his back was throbbing slightly.

"Hi Alex. Do you remember what happened?"

"Uhh… I went to sleep at MI6 and then…" He tailed off. Vague memories swam around in his brain, refusing to be brought to the surface. There were just scraps, with nothing concrete.

"You became agitated whenever you awoke, perhaps due to the strong pain medication you were on, so we sedated you. I kept you asleep until you became well enough to return home and come off the strong stuff. I believe you found your surroundings at MI6 to be threatening." Dr Clarkson told him. "How do you feel?"

"Fine." Alex lied. "But less drugged up. How long was I out?"

"About four days, on and off." Doctor Clarkson informed him. It was longer than Alex had expected. The realisation that so much time had passed brought a question to the front of his mind.

"Where's Jack?" Alex asked. After four days she should have been back in England, beside him.

"She's outside. Do you want to see her?" The doctor asked with a smile. He had obviously been expecting the question. Alex nodded and returned the smile; the action felt strange.

"Hi Jack." Alex whispered. She looked worried and hurt, although she was trying to hide it for his benefit. He felt guilty instantly; after all, she had been stressed on his behalf.

"Alex! It's good to see you awake." Jack said with a slightly forced smile.

"I'm fine really, just a few bumps and bruises." Alex lied. In his mind there was nothing wrong with being economic with the truth.

"Do you need anything? Soup, maybe? I have a carton downstairs." Jack asked, clearly not believing his 'fine really' line.

"No. I just want to sleep." Alex said, truthfully. He was exhausted. "I'd love some when I wake up, though. Thanks Jack."

"Okay Alex. I'll be here. Sleep. " Jack said, looking anxious.

"Do I look that bad?" Alex asked warily, taking in her concerned expression.

"You look like you've gone through more than a few bumps and bruises." Jack stated, but not without humour. Alex was glad that she was cheering up – she wasn't really herself when she was so serious. With that in mind he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The days passed, with Alex getting better and better all the time; at least physically, if not mentally. He wouldn't talk about what had happened with anyone – Jack, his doctor and Tom were still mostly in the dark. They knew that he had been tortured and kept in isolation, but they found it difficult to connect to that, and help Alex to deal with it – it was so far out from anything they had ever experienced. They also couldn't imagine the guilt that Alex was feeling over the men he had killed. Alex sat up at night wondering if they had parents or children that mourned for them. As the amount of drugs he was on got lower, Alex got less and less drowsy.

The pain he was in faded. The nightmares grew stronger. Every night he was back in his cell, afraid and alone. The dreams were so vivid that sometimes when he awoke he was convinced that reality was the dream, and that his bedroom was just a hallucination. The nightmares also haunted him during the day – he would be hit by flashbacks at the smallest of stimuli. After the first few times that it happened he learnt to hide it; otherwise Jack would make a fuss. She had nagged him about seeing a therapist for a while, and the idea of him having flashbacks would probably push her over the edge. So Alex pretended he was fine. He had agreed to see a therapist as soon as he was back at school to comfort her (he was sure that he could pretend to be fine during sessions too).

Alex had also avoided MI6 entirely. They had called regularly, but he refused to speak to them, hanging up immediately. Eventually he had unplugged the phone. He knew that they could have come to the house, but Mrs Jones could clearly tell he wasn't in a diplomatic mood, and let him be by himself. But Alex had no idea how long her patience would last.

He hated being cooped up in the house. It was dull, and there was nothing to distract him from the bad memories. It was better when Tom came to visit; the presence of his friend made him feel more normal, like the whole horrific situation with MI6 had never happened. Tom didn't press him for answers or act like he was fragile – Tom acted like Tom had always acted, and treated Alex like he had always treated Alex.

All of this meant that Alex wanted to go back to school as soon as possible. And, as soon as was off most of his medication and in virtually no pain, that was exactly what he decided to do. Dr Clarkson had written to the school with a list of complicated sounding medical problems that Alex had apparently been suffering from over the past months. However this was unlikely to convince many of the staff and students – rumours were far more exciting. If Alex didn't get back to school soon it was likely he'd never get back – and absolutely nobody would believe the doctor's excuses.

In the end, Alex knew he just had to make the leap and start school. He dug his old books out of the cupboard and found his pencil case. He checked that his uniform still fitted (luckily it did, despite the weight that he had lost), and found his tie under his bed after half an hour of searching. He set his alarm for seven and went to bed early, so he wouldn't be tired for the next day.

He was going back to school.

Thanks for reading. Please, please, please leave a review. It encourages me to write, because I find carrying this story on tricky. Just let me know if you'd like anything to be in this story (like characters or plot lines). Thanks again :D