Chapter 16

Once the Sergeant had closed the door behind him and sat down at his desk, he gestured for Wolf and Alex to begin their explanation. As he listened to the story, his eyes widened until by the end he had to remind himself to blink. Scrutinising the kid—for he was still a kid, even if he was also Agent Rider—more closely, he noticed for the first time the lumpy shape of bandages under what looked like a borrowed shirt, a few sizes too big. He could tell that their narration of what had happened whilst they were captured was heavily edited. He wasn't stupid—he knew exactly what organisations such as Scorpia did to their prisoners. It seemed that this time, Agent Rider had come out worst off. In any other situation, he would be reprimanding Wolf right now about letting minors get themselves into such situations, but he'd long since resigned himself to the fact that, despite appearances, Rider was mentally no longer a kid.

"I want Agent Rider to go to the medical centre immediately. He can stay there overnight. I'll be speaking to someone to organise some suitable post-stress treatments, especially for that other kid. He'll probably have to stay here longer, so no need to kick him off campus tomorrow morning any more. I expect all of you to report there tomorrow morning at 0900 hours. You'll be back to training tomorrow afternoon if the medical centre clears you. Dismissed."

"Yes sir!" chorused Alex and Wolf, saluting as they left the room. The sergeant didn't fail to notice that Rider's salute was less sharp than usual.

0o0o0o0

The next morning saw all of K Unit plus Tom getting checked over by the medical staff. Alex had already been given stitches and new bandages the night before, as well as being given an IV to rehydrate him. The others received much the same treatment, any cuts and grazes being cleaned with antiseptic before a plaster or butterfly stitches were put on them. None of their injuries were serious enough to merit proper stitches and they were cleared to partake in any of the usual SAS activities (to the disappointment of Eagle, who was looking forward to another couple of days' rest). All of them were referred to a psychiatrist who specialised in military issues, but who still had to sign the Official Secrets Act to be allowed to receive the most basic information about Alex.

As for Alex, he was dismissed from the medical centre after much complaining on his part, with a warning to avoid strenuous exercise. As soon as he was dismissed, K Unit left to complete the obstacle course, with Tom tagging along with them ("to see an SAS unit in action"). Alex returned to his cabin and resumed his lessons with Mr Meadows, proceeding at breakneck speed in order to make up for lost time and cover the syllabuses before his exams. Once he'd worked until he could take no more, his head hurting from all the information he'd crammed into it, he finally called it a day and went down to the shooting range to practise.

He noted that his shooting was still sharp, easily shooting all bull's-eyes. Every time such a thing happened, the feeling was bittersweet. On the one hand, nobody could resist the feeling of satisfaction at the display of one's skill, but on the other hand it just reminded him of how abnormal he was. Any normal teenager would not have any of the ability he had—he wasn't sure if Tom even knew how to fire a gun, let alone be able to shoot so accurately. Yet here he was, fifteen years old and living in an SAS camp.

The shooting range was deserted at the moment, all lessons having been cancelled in his absence and none of the soldiers willing to use their limited free time to practise. This gave Alex the perfect opportunity to have a good long think about his life, an opportunity he hadn't had since Jack died and everything turned to chaos. He was sceptical of the Sergeant's insistence for him to receive post-stress treatment along with K Unit and Tom, not thinking that a shrink could help him in any way—he'd managed quite alright on his own for the past year after all. But was he actually managing? asked a snide voice inside his head. Was it normal to completely lose it over anything even vaguely related to Jack? Was it normal to have regular nightmares about her death, and the death of the Pleasures?

It was a bitter pill for Alex to swallow, but with the experiences of the past few days he'd become less complacent. He knew that, out there, there were people who wanted him dead, but he would be damned if he let that stop him from living his life as best as he could. He knew some things were irreversible—he'd always have the memories of his spying past, and the associated skills and their consequences, but here was an opportunity for him to turn his life around and start really living again, instead of just going through the motions. Jack and Sabina wouldn't want him to spend the rest of his life always looking over his shoulder, wondering 'what if' and forgetting about the present. They wouldn't want their deaths to haunt his every moment.

The Alex Rider that left the shooting range an hour later may have looked the same on the outside, nodding at passing soldiers, but inside it felt as if a weight had lifted from him. Unlike before, the outward appearance of smiling friendliness wasn't a carefully schooled mask, it was genuine. Returning to his cabin, he found the photos Smithers had given to him of his three families, and smiled down at them.

"I promise I'll get better and move on...for all of you," he whispered, replacing the picture frame and getting into bed.

That night, he dreamed that he was lounging on a beach next to Sabina, who looked radiant in the sunlight, a serene smile on her face. I love you, Alex, her voice whispered, echoing around his mind. But I know you'll find someone one day who will love you as much as I do. Be happy...

A/N: I hope you found Alex's epiphany realistic, please let me know what you thought about this chapter