I am so, so sorry that this is so late! I nearly gave up on this story all together, but people reviewing kept telling me to update. I thought since it had been so long I'd give a quick summary of the story so far (or you can just reread previous chapters):
Alex is kidnapped by a man he nicknames 'The Boss', who wants Alex to become part of his organisation. He wants Alex to obey all orders without question, so tortures him while giving him orders as a form of indoctrination. Alex isn't too badly injured as the Boss doesn't want him too damaged, but the torture is both physical and psychological. Alex (who isn't so great at orders) resists, but the experience has a deep and profound effect on him. After months he manages to escape, killing three people in the process. He calls Tom and gets his worried friend to pick him. Tom takes him to MI6, after Alex collapses from exhaustion. Angry at MI6, Alex tells them that he wants no contact with them (apart from continued medical help from his doctor). He recovers mainly at home, but suffers from nightmares and flashbacks. He decides that, in order to feel normal again, he needs to get back to school.

First Day

"Alex Rider. You're back." Mrs Bedfordshire looked over the desk at him appraisingly.

"Yeah. I've been sick…" Alex tailed off. He couldn't remember exactly what his illness was supposed to have been – something to do with flu complications. Luckily Mrs Bedfordshire didn't question him further on the exact nature of his absence. She simply passed him his timetable and smiled.

"Let's hope you don't get sick again. You better get to maths. It wouldn't do to be late on your first day."

Alex smiled back and quickly checked the room number on his timetable, before stepping out into the corridor. Brookland School looked exactly the same as it always had inside, although he felt very different. As students rushed passed him, hurrying to their lessons, he stood still, out of kilter with the rest of the world; out of sync with ordinary teenagers and their ordinary lives. Then he got a grip on himself and joined the throng, easily finding his way to his maths classroom.

Alex was glad to know that they had left him in top set – he had been half expecting to find that he had been moved down a set due to his long absence. He knew the teacher, Mr Donovan, fairly well, and it was nice to have some familiarity. He found his old seat by the window and sat down. He had been one of the first to arrive, but now other students filed in, followed by Mr Donovan himself.

"Alex." The teacher sounded surprised to see him. "It's good to see that you're better. You've been off school for a while."

"I was sick," Alex said simply. Sometimes lies were best left short.

"You'll have a lot of catching up to do," The teacher said, although not unkindly. "If you see me at the end I'll give you a list of all the things you've missed."

"Thank you Sir," Alex replied, trying to sound enthusiastic at the idea. Extra maths homework was not his idea of a good time.

The teacher's brief conversation had alerted the rest of the class to Alex's presence. Some of the students carried on chatting – the ones who didn't know him and didn't really care. But most of them seemed interested that he was back. He was sure there had been more than a few rumours about where he had been. His inadequate medical explanations probably didn't help.

Max, who had been a friend of his before MI6, sat down next to him. He was a quiet boy who was more interested in reading than football, and Alex had always got on well with him.

"Hey, Alex," The other boy said, slightly awkwardly.

"Hi Max," Alex replied, in a similar tone.

"So where were you? Because I know you weren't sick. Your house was empty," Max said quickly after a long pause, looking at him seriously.

"I was in hospital," Alex replied, trying to make it sound as though it were obvious. Max didn't look satisfied.

"Like last time?" He pointed out. "You don't go to hospital for flu."

"There were complications."

"Stop lying Alex. Look, I don't care if you have a problem, I care that you've been lying to all of us for months. It's ok if your uncle's death hit you hard. Have you been in therapy or something?"

"It was just flu, Max. I have a weak immune system," Alex said with a sigh.

"Whatever," Max retorted, obviously upset. Alex wished, just for a moment, that he could tell him the truth. But then he remembered how awful the truth was, and quashed that thought. He watched as Max moved seats, leaving him by himself. That was the problem with lying. All of his old friends knew him well enough to tell he was keeping things from them, and because of that they didn't want to be his friends anymore.

Alex wondered if it was even worth trying to be normal. He didn't fit in at school, or in the world of espionage. He was part spy, part schoolboy – doomed to be neither one nor the other in entirety. A terrible sense of melancholy threatened to overwhelm him. He had never felt so lonely while surrounded by this many people. For a second memories of being kept in isolation were pulled to the front of his mind – being chained up in a tiny box cell (so small he couldn't stand up) with food and water dropped in from a hatch so he couldn't even see the face of the person keeping him alive. There was nothing quite as painful as being alone.

Then James Hale sat down beside him.

"I'm glad you're back. Ignore Max. If you don't want to talk about stuff that's fine. I'd much rather talk about football anyway," James said, shooting Max a glare across the classroom. Alex felt a glowing warmth spread through him, and grinned at his friend.

Alex spent the lesson doing trigonometry and chatting to James. It was almost as though he had stepped back in time a year.

At the end of the hour Alex stayed behind to briefly talk to Mr Donovan, who gave him a topic list and a textbook. Mr Donovan suggested he come back at break time to collect some more sheets, and then wrote a note for him so that he wouldn't get in trouble for being late for geography.

Geography was a cover lesson, and the supply teacher barely glanced at Alex when he entered the already filled classroom. Alex found an empty seat next to Tom, glad that he shared this lesson with his best friend. The room was noisy as pupils chatted – the cover teacher didn't seem to mind.

"Hey Tom. What are we doing?" Alex asked, glancing at the cover teacher.

"A sheet on volcanoes," Tom said, sounding bored. "You can have mine; I'm not going to do it."

"I am," Alex replied honestly. "I've got a lot of catching up to do." He scanned through the sheet, realising that he actually knew most of the material from his general knowledge base. He quickly labelled the diagram of the volcano and scribbled answers to the questions. Meanwhile Tom brought him up to speed on school gossip. Alex half listened, but it was hard to concentrate with all the noise, while doing the work. When he finished he looked up at Tom, who seemed mildly amused.

"I can't believe you actually bothered to do the work in a cover lesson," Tom said with a grin.

"It only took about ten minutes," Alex pointed out.

"That's ten minutes that you'll never get back," Tom responded.

"I can think of worse ways to spend ten minutes," Alex said, with a slight shudder. Tom's expression sobered. Alex wondered why he had said that; it had just come out. He had attempted to push all memories of his ordeal to the back of his mind, but he had obviously been unsuccessful. He decided to change the subject.

"What was it you were saying about Dan and Katie getting together?" He asked, knowing Tom wouldn't be able to resist answering. Alex was not disappointed; his friend launched into an animated explanation of the whole event.

After geography it was break time. Alex had to go and see Mr Donovan, to collect the maths work. It had started to rain slightly, the water running down the windows and spitting onto the concrete below. As he stepped into his maths classroom Alex watched the rain warily, but with interest. He hadn't seen weather like it since before…

"Alex. Here to collect the work?" Mr Donovan asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"Yeah," Alex said, pulling his eyes away from the window. "I really appreciate you taking the time to do this."

"It's good that you want to catch up. You're a smart boy, Alex. You need to start thinking about what you want from the future. I don't know the truth about your absences, and I know you can't help it if you get sick, but if you keep missing school like this you won't achieve your full potential. Next time you get sick, email the school, and we can forward you work," Mr Donovan said slowly, making eye contact with Alex.

"Yes sir," Alex said, lowering his gaze. "I don't think I'll be getting sick again, though." Alex genuinely believed that this might be the case – he was still ignoring MI6, and they seemed to be leaving him alone for the time being. He knew that this was unlikely to last, but he had decided to simply blank MI6 when they tried to contact him. He didn't have to answer the phone, or listen to them at all.

"That's good to hear," Mr Donovan replied with slight smile. "I have copies of everything you've missed in my office – it's across the piazza in B block. It's raining a bit so we might get a bit damp along the way."

"That's fine." Alex returned the smile.

The two of them walked down the stairs and along the corridor, Mr Donovan summarising all of the work that Alex had missed. Alex was concentrating so much that he didn't even notice that they had stepped outside at first. But then he felt the rain, cold against his face. He panicked immediately; the rain wasn't slight drizzle, it was a jet, covering his mouth and nose. He was choking, the water running into his lungs. He couldn't breathe, or speak, or breath he couldn't breathe he couldn't…

"Alex. Alex!"

Someone was calling his name but it was just a distant echo. He could hardly remember his name, there was so much pain; all that he could focus on was the agony of trying to breathe.

"Alex Rider!"

Someone was shaking his shoulder. He could hear them repeating his name, gently, in his ear. The water was no longer running down his face. He blinked and focused on what he could see. He was lying on the ground, Mr Donovan leaning over him, saying his name softly.

Alex rolled over onto his side, aware that he was wet enough from the ground beneath already, but not caring. He couldn't work up the strength to get up, or even to speak. He could hear that his breathing was ragged gasps and he slowed it, trying to calm himself down.

Mr Donovan saw what Alex was trying to do, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

After about a minute Alex pulled himself to his feet. He felt incredibly drained. The flashback had been so vivid – the overwhelming panic had engulfed him.

"I'm sorry sir. I felt… sick." Alex finally got out. His voice cracked on the final word, and he cursed himself inside for sounding so weak.

"Alex. You were moaning and saying things. What's going on? Do you need to get to medical?"

"What did I say?" Alex asked, voice low.

"You kept saying 'I won't", muttering it," Mr Donovan answered. He looked incredible shaken. The teacher obviously didn't know what to do. Alex knew he had to get away before Mr Donovan could break free of his daze.

"I'll go to medical," Alex quickly said, before turning and fleeing. He ran round the side of the building and out of the school gate. He kept running, barely thinking, grateful that his fitness was better thanks to the physiotherapy Doctor Clarkson had gotten him to do. He reached his house, soaking wet, and realised he had forgotten his keys. Jack wasn't in.

He climbed over the back fence and into the back garden, to check the back door. He was both concerned and thankful to find it unlocked – while it was a security breach, he didn't fancy staying outside until Jack got back.

Once inside, he flopped down on to the sofa and let his head sag backwards, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. The phone started to ring (Jack must have plugged it back in after he had aggressively wrenched it from the socket), but he ignored it. It might have been the school, or MI6, or even Doctor Clarkson – but right now he didn't care.

Alex didn't move; he just sat, soaking, alone in the empty house.

I hope you liked this chapter – I wasn't sure about it but I thought I should post something. There might be a couple of mistakes… Please, please leave a review: I find it hard to motivate myself to write this story as I have so much stuff (mainly exams) on at the moment, and they really encourage me to keep up this story. The next update may not be for a while, but I'll try my best. So yeah… Please Review!