Chapter 18: Alex Rider, We Salute You
November, 2018
Alex heard a knock at the door. He opened it cautiously. He was surprised to see Ella, with a puffy face, red-rimmed eyes and looking frail and even skinnier than before. She wore a light grey "Oxford Crew" Crewneck, blue denim jeans, and a dark gray beanie that concealed most of her hair.
"You were right," she burst out, "I should have talked to you in the car."
"You mean near the airport?" Alex asked, confused. He had not seen Ella since then, about four months before. A few minutes after she had taken that last pill and said she wanted to forget him, Ella's mom arrived, saying Ella's brother had sent her. She dropped Alex back off at Reagan, with a plane ticket and a bag of snacks–Alex had never had a mom pack him a snack bag before–and off he flew back to London. Ella was passed out in the backseat and her mom had not asked Alex any questions.
"Yes, then. Can we go? Talk somewhere private? You're the only person I trust in this whole city."
"Sure. Okay," Alex nodded and took her up to his bedroom, "Only sound-proof room in the house," he explained, sitting down at his desk.
Ella began pacing around his room. "You were right. I should have let you help me because now everything is all messed up and it's all my fault. After you left me in DC, my mom checked me back into the hospital for a psych eval. I was there for like 72 hours. They warned my mom and me about the dangers of abusing prescriptions but then let me go mostly scott-free. I stayed at home until my ankle healed, under my mother's watchful eye, and the second I was cleared to walk I was back in England," Ella took a shaky breath, "And then things were okay. I spoke to Oxford and they said I could audit two classes for the remainder of the semester and then get back on track next term. I chose Portuguese and Japanese and I really was learning a lot and doing well," Ella sat down at Alex's desk chair and her voice lowered, "And then I met a girl."
"You met a girl?"
"Yeah. I'm queer by the way–pansexual to be exact–and she and I really hit it off. Her name was Kyla–Kyla Rhodes."
"Was?"
"Oh my god please just let me finish because it took me three hours pacing around outside to finally get the nerve to do this," Alex nodded, "Anyways, Kyla and I started seeing each other. She was beautiful, funny, and smart, and way better than me at Japanese," Ella smiled at the memory, "But she also had a huge thing for pills. The same ones I had problems with. Now by that point, I had not taken anything since that day in DC and I had even started seeing a military therapist who told me I was self-medicating to block out my horrible childhood. But then Kyla drew me in, and 2 months of work went down the drain. We started using together, her way more than me, but still. We also did, uh, some really stupid, risky shit. With my professional skill set and her looks and smooth-talking, it was quite easy to steal from dealers. We did that three times before I finally realized that I was going to get myself killed and stopped. I tried to stop using and bring my focus back to my classes, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay away from her. Without the steady supply of stolen pills coming in, Kyla couldn't afford to actually buy any. We had a huge blow-up fight about stealing more pills and it ended up with her storming off saying she found her own way to get high and she didn't need me anymore. Well, I left to cool off for a few hours, but when I showed up at her apartment with flowers and an apology, I found her dead with a needle in her arm."
"God," Alex responded, at a loss for words.
"Yeah, it's been an awesome few months."
"Are…are you okay? When did all of this happen?"
"I found her this morning," Ella paused. Alex looked over in horror, "I then took the first train to London–I needed to get the hell out of Oxford–and found a rehab center to check myself into. Alex, I need to be somewhere safe where I can't access pills while I grieve. Anyway, they said they'll have an opening for me tomorrow, but I need somewhere to stay just for tonight. I really hate to bother you, but this is the only safe place I know. I swear, I haven't taken any pills in two weeks–I managed to get off them myself–I just don't trust myself enough to keep that streak alive in the coming weeks which is why I need to go away for a little while."
"You want to stay the night?"
"Please, but first I want to apologize to you."
"Ella, I really don't want an apology from you in exchange for a place to crash," Alex sighed.
"Listen," Ella continued anyways, "I know I fucked up badly and you have no reason to trust me or even like me. We had a really good thing going and I screwed that all up. I know my word doesn't mean anything to you right now, but I swear I am two weeks sober and I swear I will never bother you again if I can just stay the night. Tomorrow morning I'm going to spend my 30 days in rehab, reconnect with my therapist, and allow myself time to heal. After that, I am going back to Oxford and I'll actually begin the process of getting my life together. Please, Alex, I need somewhere safe to stay tonight."
"Honestly, Ella, I am still pretty messed up about what happened outside the airport. Sure, I probably could have been nicer when asking you about the pills, but my concerns were warranted and your response was beyond fucked up."
Ella sat down on the floor, cross-legged. Looking up at Alex she mumbled "I'm not used to people showing me real concern. Usually when my family does it, there's an ulterior motive. It took me a long time to realize that you were just trying to be my friend and wanted to make sure I was okay."
"Yes, of course, I wanted to see if you were okay–I really valued our friendship because it's been years since I've been able to connect with somebody on that level–you know how that feels," Ella nodded in agreement, "However, you also put my life in danger while trying to drive and then screamed at me when I mentioned it to you."
"Yeah. That was insanely fucked up of me. I know that that whole event was my fault. I have felt guilty about it for months, hence me actually going to therapy. I've been searching for the right way to apologize, but nothing has seemed like enough. I still don't think I have the right words, but hopefully after this month in rehab, I will. I'm done fucking around."
Alex sighed. He was annoyed with Ella and had been replaying their last conversation in his head for months. However, a small part of him did feel bad for her. "Fine. You can sleep on my couch for just tonight. But I get to ask you five questions that you have to answer honestly."
Ella looked uncomfortable for a minute. "Okay," she finally agreed, "I'll answer whatever you like unless it's about my siblings or it's genuinely classified."
"Fine."
Ten minutes later, the two of them are in Alex's kitchen, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches–the extent of Alex's cooking ability.
"Is Jack here?" Ella asked.
Alex shook his head. "At the boyfriend's again–I think they're getting pretty serious," he scowled, "And anyways, I'm supposed to be asking the questions here."
"Just wanted to make sure no one else could hear me," Ella mumbled, "I still want to keep an aura of mystery about me," Alex smiled, impossibly, "You sure no one's listening in?"
"Absolutely. I check for bugs all the time–I do not trust MI6 to respect that boundary," Ella nodded, "Anyways, Ella, there are a few things I want to know. They'll be pretty basic, I promise. I'm not going to like, demand government secrets or anything."
"Okay. I'm ready," Ella said, biting a piece of crust off of her sandwich.
"We'll start simple. First, how do you know so much about me? It's been bothering me since we first met."
"Well for starters, Joe Byrne did give me a file on you before I left for England. I didn't expect to meet you, but it was just in case. It had your CIA missions written in detail from debriefings, but not much else, to be honest. Physical descriptions, old report cards–you really should go to class, by the way—and a few other notes like skills. Ooh, they also had a language section where I learned that you are fluent in English, Spanish, French, and Russian, and you have dabbled in German," Ella smiled at that last part.
Alex nodded, "That's reasonable, actually," he conceded. "You seem to like languages."
"Is that a question?" Ella challenged.
"Just an observation," Alex said, making eye contact with Ella, who wasn't budging, "Fine, purely out of curiosity, how many languages do you speak?"
"I love learning languages, first of all," Ella said, "And I am fluent in English, obviously, as well as Dutch, German, Spanish, French, Italian, Arabic, Chinese, and Russian. I am sound in a lot more languages, but I wouldn't say I'm fluent just yet. Close though, in a lot of them."
Alex whistled, "Impressive."
"Yeah, well it's the only part of CIA training I ever actually enjoyed. Also," Ella blushes, "I really did enjoy teaching you Arabic. I've never taught anyone I wasn't related to a language before, and it really was a lot of fun for me."
"Me too," Alex smiled, relaxing his shoulders.
"Maybe we could do it again sometime? Or, we could tune up your German? Deutsch ist meine dritte Lieblingssprache." Ella's eyes lit up as she asked him.
"Truly, watch your luck," Alex shook his head.
"Fine, fine, what's the next question then?"
"Okay. Because I honestly do not know, what ended up happening with the Todd Eldridge case?"
"Well, the FBI put out a warrant for his arrest for felony assault–aka strangling me in the hospital. He was arrested immediately upon being released from the hospital. They basically just did that to keep him off the streets. He is now being investigated for human trafficking charges for kidnapping students and selling them to work for big farms in Texas. About half of the 20 children have been located and returned to their families. If there is any silver lining here, it's that there does not appear to be any sexual crimes–simply labor trafficking. Of course, that's horrible in its own right, but I think you know what I mean," Ella paused to take a breath, "Between you and me, there's no way he's getting out of prison ever–for the human trafficking but also because he assaulted a federal agent, not that he knew that. As for the other teachers, a few of them were actually in on the scheme. We hadn't yet met most of them, but you'll be interested to know that Theresa Jensen and her husband played a major role."
"Goddamn," Alex breathed.
"Yeah, I knew from the start that she sucked," Ella stuck out her tongue playfully.
Alex chuckled. "Well, I'm glad they got him, anyways."
"Me too," Ella said, taking another bite of her sandwich.
"Okay, so I have two more questions," Alex started, "Fuck it. The pills. How long have you been using?"
"Well, to be honest, I have a bit of a complicated history with substances," Ella shifted uncomfortably.
"Didn't the CIA drill the whole 'don't do drugs' thing into your head?" Alex asked, vividly remembering all of the lectures he got from Ian and MI6.
"That's question number 5," Ella noted.
"Shit."
"But I'll answer them both in enough detail," she promised. "First, of course, I was raised to think that all drugs and the people who used them were bad and terrible. And don't get me wrong, some are very dangerous, but using a substance does not automatically make you bad or a criminal. It simply makes you a person who uses substances."
"Ella I asked about you, not for a political opinion piece," Alex grumbled.
"Yeah. I'm getting there. I feel that with everything going on in my life right now, you can be a little patient. Anyways, of course, I was raised that drugs were terrible and a huge detriment to society, and I really did believe it for a while. Then, when I was about 14, I realized two very important things. One, that my dad was a piece of shit. Two, that he was wrong about quite a lot. So I tried weed. I drank. You know, more than just a glass or two of Manischewitz on the holidays. And I felt good. I felt better than I ever had before. It was great to forget about my reality and the familial manipulation and the dangers I was put into. I partied pretty hard whenever I wasn't actively on a mission, but I always saved the weed and liquor for the weekends. After a while—I was maybe 16—I really started to dabble in psychedelics. The CIA investigated LSD for a bit, you know. After that, the world started making a lot more sense to my little head. Honestly, that's most of what I've ever done. I've done some harder stuff at parties, but I have never been a regular user. Anyways, to answer your question, before a few months ago I've had very little experience with opiate pain pills–my family always preferred the over-the-counter stuff. By that, I literally mean my dad never let me fill those prescriptions no matter how much pain I've been in. I've had morphine, but that stuff makes my head feel so weird. Anyways, after my ankle surgery, I realized that those pills were fucking great and I did not have one care in the world while using them. I stopped thinking about my fight with my Dad or the fact I just got strangled in a hospital bed. So I kept using them and misusing them and here I am. I'm not going to lie to you and say that I'm going to be completely sober forever–but I need to get away from these pills before they completely ruin my life."
"Wow," Alex said.
"Yeah…and now I imagine you think very differently of me. Before you judge, though, know that we do not have the same lived experiences. What I do is self-medicate just to get through the damn day sometimes. No one will ever quite understand and honestly, it's not my job to explain it. However, as someone who I respect, it's important that you know all of this about me."
"I…thank you," Alex said, "For being honest with me. I'm not going to lie, I absolutely have used alcohol as a way to cope before but never anything else. I still don't drink much, though."
"Square."
"Excuse me?" Alex exclaimed and Ella laughed at him.
"I'm just messing with you. Don't be me, but if you ever want to try anything, you know where to find me."
"Truly I do not know where to find you."
"Well let's change that. Can I give you my number? My real one, not Eloise Greenwald's? You don't have to use it for anything, but now you officially know more about me than almost anybody else, so you are legally my friend now," Alex smiled and nodded, sliding Ella his phone. She punched in a few keys "There you go. I won't even ask for yours so you can text first, but only if you want to."
Alex looked at his phone. There was a new contact: a phone number starting with 202, and Ella had named herself 'SQUATTER.' "I'm truly never getting rid of you, am I?" Alex sighed.
"If you're lucky, then no," Ella smiled back sweetly.
The next day, Alex decided to go with Ella on the way to check into rehab. It felt like the least he could do, after last night.
The two of them rode the tube in near silence, and Alex noticed Ella bouncing her left leg up and down the entire ride.
When they finally reached the Vencella Rehabilitation clinic, Ella hesitated outside of the door. Alex put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. This is the safest place for you right now and you know it. You are making the right decision."
Ella looked up, teary. "I know. It's just hard. It's hard to put myself first."
"Yeah," Alex started, "Yeah it really is. But you're strong and you're going to get through this."
Ella sucked in a deep breath and walked toward the door. She turned back for a second and hugged Alex, burying her face in his neck. "Thank you."
She let go after a moment and began walking back towards the door. Once inside, she spun around and saluted him through the glass.
Alex chuckled and saluted back. It's the last time he sees her.