Therapy

The next day, Alex went back to school. Jack was against it after his disastrous first day, but she didn't want to stop Alex if he was certain it was the right thing to do. When the school had called Jack had been brilliant; she had told them that Alex had felt very faint and unwell because he had been on new medication (for his 'flu complications'). It had led to his collapse, and he had rushed home in a mildly delirious state. It absolved Alex of all blame, which was nice. But placating the school was only the first step – Jack was the much larger obstacle. She had been gobsmacked at his desire to return to school immediately, and was concerned that he was keeping his difficulties to himself. In the end they agreed that Alex could go back to school only if he started going to the therapy sessions that Doctor Clarkson was arranging without complaint (after all, he had promised her he would attend).

He was fortunate that only Mr Donovan had seen his panic attack. He didn't think he could stand any more gossip from his peers. Mr Donovan himself seemed unconvinced by the medication cover story – he kept staring at Alex when he thought that Alex wasn't looking. Alex tried to avoid any conversations with the teacher: he felt embarrassed and ashamed at what had happened.

Over the next week Alex carefully avoided any triggers, chatted to Tom and James at lunch about nothing much, and started to catch up on schoolwork. He was fairly quiet and withdrawn in class, focusing on work and occasionally dwelling on things he wished he could forget, and soon he faded into the background of Brookland. But, while outwardly things seemed normal, underneath Alex wasn't coping well. He was trying to block everything out by focusing on other things, but he hadn't actually processed or dealt with any of his ordeal. He knew that his solution wasn't sustainable, and that he couldn't just ignore the flashbacks, but he just didn't want to deal with things. It was just too difficult to go back over his memories. After all, it was bad enough to go through them once.

When the weekend came close, Alex was both relieved and tense. Relieved because he no longer had to pretend to be fine all the time, but tense because he would no longer have school as a distraction from his thoughts. When he was part of a crowd it was easy for him to imagine that he was the same as everybody else; once alone, or with a few people, it became much more difficult. Plus the weekend meant that Alex had to attend his first therapy session – it was booked for four o clock on Saturday, and Alex was not looking forward to it. He knew that the counsellor wouldn't understand anything, and would probably have no respect for his personal boundaries. But Dr Clarkson had already arranged it and thought it was necessary; the doctor claimed that the counsellor was the best he knew.

In a way, Alex was grateful. He knew that if the doctor wanted him to see the counsellor it was probably a good idea. Alex sometimes wondered how long he would have the support of the Doctor – while MI6 were humouring him, he knew they could easily make life very difficult for him. This acceptance of his refusal to talk to them would not last; this silent truce was certainly temporary. However Alex had a feeling that MI6 didn't have full power over the doctor – perhaps they didn't have the power to withdraw his medical help. Instead, MI6 would probably try to get to him through good old fashioned 'persuasion'; which was exactly why he had decided just not to talk to them.

The last lesson of Friday afternoon was games. Alex had worn his games shirt under his school shirt so that when they got changed, nobody would see his scarred torso. The brand still hadn't been removed, and Alex was unwilling to schedule a date for the operation. He didn't want to be unconscious because it meant a complete loss of control. Plus he would have to miss more school; he would probably just wait for the holidays to come around to have it removed.

However, when Alex reached the changing rooms, he found out that his games shirt would not be needed. His class was currently having swimming lessons during games. The teacher was new, and Alex didn't recognise him. He knew that he probably wasn't going to make the best impression.

"I don't have any swimming stuff." Alex said, truthfully (although of course he wouldn't have brought it if he had known about their new timetable).

"I told you all last week that nobody was getting out of swimming." The teacher said with a glare. Alex remembered that his name was Mr James – Tom had mentioned him as 'an absolute nutbag'.

"I wasn't here last week." Alex pointed out, trying to keep things reasonable.

"You lot think that you can just 'forget' your swimwear and not have to take part in a mandatory session." Mr James scolded. He was obviously assuming Alex was just avoiding swimming, like a lot of people did.

"I didn't even know that we had swimming." Alex protested, slightly irritated now. "I've been off school."

"That's it. Detention. If you forget your swimming stuff next week you can swim in your underpants." Mr James snapped. Alex sighed. He was trying to keep out of trouble. He would have to get Jack to write him a note getting him out of swimming for the rest of the term. Alex sighed, and found a book in his bag. He would have to watch his friends swim for the whole last hour of school.

Four o clock on Saturday came around fast. Alex found himself at the offices of his new counsellor, about to have his first session. He knocked on the door, and entered without waiting for a response.

The counsellor was grey haired, probably in his late forties or early fifties. He was wearing a blue suit that didn't fit well; it was too large, suggesting he had lost weight recently, and hadn't had time to replace his clothes. He didn't wear a tie, giving him a sense of informality. Alex supposed that was deliberate.

The counsellor was sitting on a soft looking chair, across from a sofa that he supposed was for him. The sofa looked comfortable enough, and it was facing the door, so Alex sat down. When he did, the man smiled at him.

"Hi, I'm Tim Duncan, but you can just call me Tim if you want. Mr Duncan sounds a bit formal." The man, Tim, said. His voice was soft and reminded Alex of Doctor Clarkson's. It had the same friendly and approachable ring to it.

"I'm Alex. But you already knew that." Alex said, looking into the man's eyes and searching for any unseen intentions. Tim didn't seem fazed – as a therapist attached to MI6 Alex supposed he dealt with a lot of untrusting people.

Neither of them said anything for a minute or so, but it wasn't and awkward silence – they were both examining body language and expression. Alex got the distinct feeling that Tim was waiting to see if Alex would go first – just start talking. It wasn't going to be that easy. Alex briefly wondered if he should just not speak for the entire session, but then he remembered that he had promised Jack to try to use these sessions to get help. And, in fairness, he wasn't doing so well on his own.

"So, Alex, what did you want to talk about?" Tim finally asked, when it became clear Alex wasn't going to say anything.

"I don't know. Aren't you supposed to tell me?" Alex said, with a slight sigh.

"This is your time, Alex. We're not going to talk about anything that you don't want to." Tim's voice was patient.

"Well then, I don't really want to talk about the things that have happened to me, to be honest," Alex said quickly. He surprised himself with his truthfulness. But there was something about Tim – perhaps it was his calm voice, or his unthreatening posture, but Alex felt surprisingly trusting towards the man. He supposed that was what made Tim good at his job.

"What makes you feel that way?" Tim questioned, unaggressive.

"I just think that bringing it up will make it worse. I just don't want to think about it."

"Do you think shutting it away is working? That sounds very difficult to do on a daily basis." Tim asked, looking at Alex appraisingly.

"Umm… " Alex tried pausing for a while, to see if he would fill the silence. "I guess not. I keep having flashbacks and I don't feel over it."

"Talking things through can be really beneficial," Tim pointed out.

"But what if it makes things worse?" Alex muttered.

"How do you think things could get worse?" Tim asked, looking genuinely inquisitive, like he really was interested in what Alex had to say.

"Things can always get worse," Alex said with a sigh. "If I've learnt one thing it's that even if you can't imagine how the situation could possibly be bleaker, other people certainly can."

"It sounds like you've had a really rough time. Not many people would think like that, especially at your age."

"Really tough just doesn't cover it. What do you know about what happened to me?" Alex wondered.

"Just the basics, Alex. I don't want to know things if you aren't comfortable telling them to me. And I get the impression that nobody really knows or understands what happened to you apart from you."

"How could anybody understand?" Alex whispered, more to himself than to Tim. "There's not a single person in the world who's lived my life so far. Nobody has any idea. People just walk round, assuming that they're safe from harm, from hurt. But nobody really is. There's a darkness beneath the skin of our lives, and once you notice it, once it touches you, you can never go back. Because how can you just live, when you know that safety is just an illusion; how can you live when you know that everything that you have, everything that you are, can be taken away? Especially when you're the only person who sees it."

"It seems like you feel very isolated. Would you say that's fair?" Tim said, looking concerned.

"Definitely. Tom, he's the only one of my friends who knows what actually happened to me, just doesn't understand. And I don't expect him to. But it's just… hard. The rest of my year group just think I'm weird. My teachers give me funny looks. I feel so alone."

"How do you think you could feel more included?"

"Well, I try and act normal, but doing it all the time is exhausting."

"When you say normal, what exactly do you mean?" Tim asked.

"I try to act like I did a year ago. Before my life got completely screwed."

"That does sound exhausting. I think it's clear that you are a very different person now compared to who you were then," Tim observed.

"Exactly. I've changed so much, in such a short space of time," Alex agreed.

"What do you think all of the changes are? Are they positive or negative?" Tim asked. Alex thought for a few moments.

"A mix," He finally said.

"Why don't you list them," Tim suggested. "I'll give you a few minutes to think about it." He offered Alex some paper, but Alex turned him down. Instead he shut his eyes and listed the changes in his head. Thinking it through, he realised that his character and personality really had changed – he was a different person inside and out. He thought for what seemed like a short time, but, judging by the clock, was actually a long while. Tim didn't interrupt him or hurry him, which Alex was grateful for. He just wanted time to think. Eventually, he spoke.

"There's a lot of negatives. I'm more distracted because I always feel hyperaware of what's going on – like I automatically sit so I can see at least one exit. I don't trust people. I feel afraid a lot of the time, but like I can't show it. I find it hard to relax. I'm more willing to hurt people. I'm colder emotionally. I don't really think about the future. I don't assume things are going to work out."

"What about positives?" Tim probed, when Alex had finished.

"I guess I'm a lot more independent, which is kind of a good thing. I'm really capable; I can do things lots of adults can't. I don't find small problems a big deal any more. I know that I'm a strong person, and even though toughening up was painful and left me different, it made me feel like I know the truth about the world. I can cope extremely well under pressure. I've saved a lot of lives, which sometimes makes me feel better about myself," Alex said with a slight smile. "Oh, and I'm a hell of a lot better at coming up with one liners," He added, feeling his smile widen.

"You mentioned quite a few skills that you've built up. Would you say that those skills that you've developed could be useful?" Tim queried.

"Definitely in intelligence work, but I don't want to do that again, even when I turn eighteen. I don't know, maybe if I was a trauma surgeon or something. I don't think A&E would faze me."

"You say you don't look into the future, but that sounds like a career prospect you've thought about."

"When I was younger, I used to want to be a footballer. But I quite enjoy getting adrenaline rushes; I guess I'd have to have a job with pressure. Hopefully not one with fear of death." Alex's tone was light, but he realised what he was saying was actually true.

"I hope you've found this session useful, Alex. I want you to know that we don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I'm here to listen. I'd really like it if we could build up some trust between us, and be able to talk about the issues that are making life difficult for you," Tim told Alex. He seemed genuine, like he really did want to help.

"Maybe," Alex said, without too much commitment. Trust wasn't something to be gained over the course of minutes. But the counsellor seemed satisfied with the response.

Somewhat surprised that he was feeling mildly better, Alex Rider smiled as he left the room.

I really wasn't sure about this chapter, but I decided to post it anyway. It didn't really go where I wanted it to, but I thought that I should update sooner than I did last time. Anyway, what did you think? Please leave me a review :D