32Disclaimer: Alex Rider, Ben Daniels, K-unit, and the Sergeant don't belong to me. Sadly. Hope you enjoy the story.
Wait. Before I begin...
I'll like to apologise to all my readers because I deleted the previous version of this story. I'm really sorry, but I had to do it because I found it hard to continue it. But I hope you can continue reading as the newer version has a similar plotline at the start, but a little more addition (I found the chapters too short, so I wrote more, and sometimes combine some chapters. So I hope you all can forgive me. If you like the previous story, perhaps you will like the better version of it. If you didn't like the story, it's okay, you can comment below, and tell me where else I need to improve on. Thanks for bearing with me and my long author's note, so here's the story. :)
"Sir, we would like to talk to you about the patient's condition. So if you could, kindly step outside," a doctor led the man outside Room 9, "…coma patients…can hear…"
"…serious concussion…stage 5 comatose…"
"…check his progress…brain damage…"
These phrases floated aimlessly into Room 9 of St. Dominic's Hospital, through the door that was left ajar. On the bed of Room 9, lay a malnourished blond boy, age 16, slowly coming round from a Stage 5 coma. He had been in a coma for a month, and the doctors would pull the plug if he did not wake up soon. Chances of waking up from a Stage 5 coma were slim. Yet, the boy was seen twitching ever so slightly.
A sterile white bandage wound around his head, just above his eyes, which fluttered half-open. Twin hazel-brown eyes peeked out underneath the eyelids, with black rings forming below his eyes. They gazed the surroundings quickly but wearily.
All he could see was a green, private room, with basically nothing in it. A door, to his left, a window near the door. His vision was blurry, and the world was fading in and out before him.
The boy looked tired, and tired he was indeed. Sharp angles on his face highlighted the fact that he was thin. At the young age of sixteen, he should have softer geometries on his face instead of bones jutting out from all angles. Gauze and bandages littered his cheeks, arms, chest—basically, his entire body. He looked older than he should, weary-looking yet handsome.
Numerous tubes sprouted from his chest, like a blooming fountain made of plastic. A machine monitored his pulse with an irritating beeping noise. However irritating it was, it should not stop. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth; a small mist clouds the inside of the mask every few seconds. An IV and glucose drip connected to a vein in his wrist, enabling every cell in his body to function normally.
Sleep washed over the again boy, but he struggled to stay awake. Not wanting to sleep into unconsciousness again, he clench his fist, fingernails biting into his flesh. But with the sedative slowly pumping into his bloodstream to numb the pain, he gave in, allowing darkness to consume him.
He was the one who people often think as a miracle. He was the one who people pitied. He was the one who people misjudged. He was the one with the luck of the devil. Yet, he was the one who has nothing left on Earth.
He, is Alex Rider.
Sweat beaded on Alex's forehead. Taking in quick, deep breath, he glanced around, willing the surroundings to change, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare. The surroundings was like an oven—the warm, boiling sensation, the tingling feeling on his back, as though he was going to be boiled alive. He felt like he couldn't get any air, and the oxygen-deprived conditions was enough to make his senses go haywire.
He shut his eyes tightly, and willed with fullest determination, to get out of this boiling nightmare.
Nothing happened.
Perhaps, he had one foot stepped right into Hell. The heat was killing him. He could almost see the lava bubbling in the cauldron, and perhaps, perhaps…
He was confined in a small space. A whirl of thoughts overwhelmed him, making him scared. He was scared, and for once he admitted it. For once he allowed emotions to wash over him, like a tsunami consuming him and dragging him down to the very bottom of his sadness. He was drowning in melancholy. The sadness that cannot be describe by pure words. The sadness was like a devil which lay deep and heavy like a rock weighing his heart. And it was consuming him alive.
He could no longer hold back the unshed tears that glint in his eyes. He could feel them—tears which spiral in front of the iris—dangerous falling over the edge of the cliff. It wasn't long before tears started trickled from his eyes. Despite his best efforts to wipe it away, they still came. When tears turned into blood seeping from his eyes, he was prepared to give up his life to stop the grief from coming to him. Sticky, crimson liquid ran down his cheeks, standing out from his pale skin. It ran down to the end of his chin, and dripped, a ruby crystal, onto the dark, nearly non-existent ground.
He was very, very alone, in the darkness.
Alone, Alex thought, I am alone.
He squatted down and buried his head in his arms, setting the back of his hands on his knees.
"Why, am I always alone?" He rocked back and forth, trying to clear his thoughts. Blood pooled onto his palms.
"Why?" He shut his eyes tightly.
"WHY?!" He cried, kneeling down onto the ground, bashing his fists furiously on the floor.
Blood splatters were all over the floor, a dark red puddle on the ground. Blood seeped from the cuts on his knuckles from punching the floor. Bloody hands rested heavily onto the ground, fingers splayed open from the pressure.
Yet it doesn't stop there. The blood doesn't stain the ground. It simply seeps inside. The thick puddle gets thinner and thinner, and finally disappears all together. Alex simply kneeled there, as though begging God to free him from his everlasting grief.
He couldn't take it any longer.
Letting out an anguished sob, Alex let grief wash over him as he lay, tired, on the cold hard ground.
This may be the least violent of dreams, but yet, being alone was what Alex could stand no more.
What had he done wrong to deserve a punishment like this?
All MI6's fault. Ian's fault. Dad's fault. If not for the lies of a spy that runs deep in my blood, I will not have been alone, he thought.
I wish to forget.
I wish to remember not.
I wish that life reverts to the normal.
Or let me live no more.
If given the chance, he would choose to forget.
He couldn't understand why he was alone. Why?
Why?
"There are some signs to show that Alex had been awake for a while…Here…and here…of the scan…the coloured areas were active recently…"
"Sir, you may go back to Room 9 now. If he had been awake before, chances are that he might fully emerge from coma soon. Please press the red "call" button if there's any trouble, or if Alex is awake. But do remember, Mr. Daniels, he may have sustained some brain damage during that terrible ordeal of his…"
"I understand, thank you, Dr. Holland."
Ben Daniels sat at Alex's bedside. Every single time he entered Room 9 of St. Dominic's hospital, he could not help his heart gave a guilty pang. Seeing the poor boy in that horrifying state…he had to be blamed. He hated himself. Seeing the boy on the bed was literally a sci-fi come true.
As Alex's legal guardian, he had promised that he would take good care of Alex, after gaining the knowledge that he had lost most of his childhood to the secret intelligence. Not only that, his uncle had trained him to become a spy. That, was absolutely unheard of! It was beyond his imagination that a spy would train a child to follow his footsteps, son or nephew. Yet again, he had become one of those who let Alex down. He did not do his job well. He was to be blame…
Ben gripped onto Alex's hand tightly, rubbing the skin on the back of the palm in small circles, as though it could comfort him. His hands shook a little, and he recalled everything that happened the night that landed Alex into this state.
Oh, Alex…Can you ever forgive me? Can you…?"
"Alex? Alex!" Benjamin Daniels came rushing into Alex's bedroom without knocking the door. Alex, surprisingly, in the middle of the night, was fully dressed in his jeans and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt. He sat in the middle of his bed, hugging his knees, eyes not seeing. His eyes were narrowed, and each hand clutched the opposite arm so tightly that his knuckles went white. Ben was pretty sure that the skin below was red and slightly bruised from that amount of pressure Alex put.
"Alex…the alarm…we better…?"
"I know…"
There was a sudden crash from below—a glass window broke, its dull shimmering pieces shattered all over the living room floor, on the carpet, furniture and all.
"Damn, they will pay for the damage to my house!"
"It's about time. Let's go!"
Alex grabbed Ben's upper arm and tugged the older man along with him as he jumped out of his bedroom window from the second floor. Ben, taken by surprise, gave an unmanly yelped that gave Alex the urged to knock him out. Ben composed himself, and managed to land in a squatting position when he landed. Alex, however, as quiet as a cat, had landed on both feet, which were in his trainers.
"Quiet, Ben! We'll be seen!"
"Well, it's not my fault that you grabbed me and pull me out of the window without warning!" Ben hissed, standing up, his knees aching from the impact of the fall.
"You're a spy! Expect the unexpected!" Alex whispered, annoyed. Luckily, no one heard the noise. Or at least, that's what he thought so.
Alex pulled Ben along, sprinting towards a dark and deserted alley. They went round the bend, and hid behind the wall, looking at Ben's house to identify the armed men.
"You knew what was going to happen?" Ben whispered, looking worriedly as a bright flash came from one of the windows from his house.
"I heard the alarm. I had to be careful! After messing with the largest terrorist organization, I doubt they would let me go on holiday…"
"SCORPIA?! They were disbanded! Mrs Jones announced it during a debrief!"
"I don't know! They might just be a group of people who want revenge. Tone it down!" Alex hissed, clearly annoyed.
"I think we better contact MI6. We obviously need help…"
Suddenly, a black shadow whipped past. Alex spun around on the balls of his feet, trying to locate the person. His serious brown eyes scanned the entire area within his view. There was no one, yet shadows were all around. Alex took a step back, keeping Ben behind him. Staring intently at the ground, he was getting more and more creep out by the shadows. Cold shivers rushed down Alex's spine, making him shake like a leaf, but Alex did his best to hide it.
"Scared are yah, Alexxx…" a hiss came out from the shadows. Maniac laughter followed behind. The sound reverberated around.
One by one, people emerged from the shadows. Soon, there were five people surrounding them, each and every one of them wearing a cloak, covering their faces. Each with a gun in hand, and one holding something small and round.
"Interesting, ain't it, dear Alex…? The organization's newest technology, the 'Chameleon'. It blends us in with the surroundings, acting exactly like a chameleon. But it isn't really completed. It doesn't cover our shadows. Pity. But it will be improved soon. Perhaps we can send a version to you and your friend over there, when you guys are in…hell…and perhaps you can hide from the devil…" one of the hooded men said jeeringly, taking a step forward. The rest of the men guffawed loudly.
"SCORPIA was disbanded! You are definitely not SCORPIA!" Alex snarled, curling his hands tight. Veins popped up popped up from his arms—a scar running up and down his arms.
The leader gave a wild laugh, "Clever! But I never said we were SCORPIA! SCORPIA may be disbanded, but its members will never cease to exist."
"Of all places, Alex, why did you lead us to a dead end?" Ben muttered desperately. Ben's fingers were itching to get his gun from his belt, but it was impossible before the men actually kill them.
Alex cursed, his eyes darting around, trying to find an escape route, trying to find a weapon, trying to find ANYTHING to get out of this hell on Earth.
"Looks like your friend there is scared. Wasn't he a spy too…?" one of the cloaked men leered.
Ben gulped. He was surprised that Alex didn't feel scared. Even spies will be a bit panicky in these situations. Especially when you have a dead end behind you. Ben didn't like to kill his way out of these situations—it was extremely risky.
Ben drew up his courage, and stood up straighter. He stood beside Alex, who was mildly surprised, although that was just his physical expression.
"Oh yeah? Who says so?" Ben spoke, although he was quavering in the inside.
"Ben! Stay behind! Don't interfere!" Alex muttered under his breath.
"I won't let you do this alone. We are both spies. Not only that, I'm your partner in MI6. And I'm your guardian." Ben muttered, his voice strong.
"I can't. Don't act like you are attached to me…Please. I don't wish another person that I care for to be injured."
"How touching! Any more last words, dearies? No? Then be prepared either to be scarred in memory, or put one foot in hell!" the first man shouted, cackling. He lifted a small little ball, thumbed the button down hard, and threw it towards Alex. The ball stopped by Alex's feet, its button flashing red.
"No. NO!" Alex yelled, identifying the object, and pushed Ben away to one side, as hard as he could. He, however, wasn't so lucky. There simply wasn't enough time to run. Before Alex could dive after Ben, the ball gave a single, long 'beeeeeeep~' and there was a bright white flash that blinded Ben.
"ALEX!"
The place exploded. Ben was flung by the tremendous amount of force. His head slammed into a few cardboard boxes behind him, and graze the concrete wall slightly. His eyes shot open at the impact, and he could just make out a small, limp figure flying out of the blast. He gasped as he saw the figure crumple into the wall, broken and bruised. The whole place was filled with grey, wispy smoke, curling in front of him. The hooded men had disappeared in a flash.
Yet maniac laughter hung in the air.
Ben leaned heavily against the wall, feeling bruised and battered, but not hurt too seriously. He swayed on the spot, feeling that this whole incident was a dream, just a nightmare. Stars appeared in front of his view, and he tried to shake them off. He felt that he was missing something. Something important to him. Very important…
"A...Alex. Alex? Alex! ALEX?!" Ben mumbled incoherently, struggling to keep his balance to get to Alex. Clinging onto the concrete walls, he stumbled towards the direction of the figure lying limp on piles of broken and chipped concrete.
The sight was revolting. Bits of cement and chips of bricks rained all over Alex. He was badly scraped, cuts and bruises covering almost every inch of visible skin. Dust had settled on his wounds. Ben cradled the bloodied boy in his arms. Alex, however, did not respond. His head lolled around, eyes half open, the whites of his eyes showing through, dead to the world. Ben kneeled down with a thump, his heart filled with despair. It's was his fault. His fault! He was a lousy guardian. He was trained by SAS, by MI6, yet he could not deal with the situation. He let Alex take the lead. He let Alex protect him. He failed to protect Alex from further harm. He let Alex stand up on his own, and he himself was a coward. A COWARD!
"Stupid boy! Letting himself get hurt just because he didn't want his loved ones to be taken away from him anymore. Foolish to risk his own life…" Ben thought.
But it was true.
His parents were taken away from him, died in the hands of SCORPIA.
His uncle was killed by Yassen, the assassin.
Jack died sitting on explosives planted by SCORPIA, or rather, Razim, who wanted to test the emotional pain.
Tom and Sabina couldn't keep staying around with him either. They had to let go, knowing that their friend, in Tom's case, couldn't continue his studies with him, and in Sabina's case, couldn't have him attract trouble to the Pleasures.
Alex had already lost everything, everyone he loved. Of course he didn't want to risk it anymore. He had barely anyone to love anymore.
Ben shifted the boy onto his lap, and gently held his head. Ben was in a dazed. What should he do? The slam on his head had left him incoherent. His shaky fingers wiped Alex's cheek.
He had never felt so lost in his life.
He felt something wet against his palms. Shifting Alex's head to another hand, he raised his right hand up and gazed at it. Crimson red liquid trickled down thickly from his palm, down his wrist. He wiped it on his pants, and was surprised that the blood wasn't his. There wasn't a cut on his palm, except a small graze that shouldn't have produced such a great amount of blood. He turned over Alex's head, and was shocked to see that the back of Alex's head was a dyed crimson red. His blond hair was matted with dirt, and the red spread fast. It looked all too obvious, all too wrong in the mess of blond hair.
Ben, spurred by fear, pulled Alex tightly in his arms and ran for dear life. He quickly unlocked his car, which amazingly wasn't destroyed, gently set Alex at the backseat and drove to St. Dominic's Hospital. He knew he was speeding, but it was an emergency. Cars honking, driver yelling, but Ben did not pay attention. He prayed for Alex. He prayed for his life.
With a squeal of tires, Ben parked the car and carried Alex out, who was still unconscious. Doctors at the Accident and Emergency department quickly set Alex on a gurney, and wheeled him to the operation room. Ben had to be refrained from following by three nurses and a doctor, who insisted on getting himself checked up. He looked as Alex was wheeled away in a hurry. Feeling weak, he collapsed onto his knees, and fainted.
When Ben woke up, he was tucked into one of the hospital beds at the temporary resting area, an IV drip taped down to his wrist.. After some MRI scans, an X-ray scan, he was bandaged up and cleared from the hospital. It was four hours since the incident. Four hours and still counting. Ben paced outside the operating theatre. Four hours, and Alex was still inside…
Benjamin Daniels was jerked back into reality when he felt something jerked in his hand. Ben looked up, and was met by the scene of Alex twitching, like any other time he had nightmares. Except this was more violent than usual. Ben tried to soothe Alex as much as he could, holding his hand, smoothing his head (covered by bandages, so there wasn't any hair to comb through). Nothing was working. In fact, Alex seemed to be squirming, and slipping from Ben's grasp, as though avoiding him. Alex whimpered pitifully. He continued to thrash some more, dislodging the tubes connected to his body. The heart monitor gave a long shrill "beeeeeep~" as the pad dislodge from Alex's chest. A couple of nurses scurried in, along with Alex's doctor in charge, Dr. Holland. A nurse gently led Ben away from Alex, and closed the curtains around the patient. Tears leaked out of Ben's eyes. Emotions washed over him. Not everyone has a teaspoon-range of emotions. Not every spy is heartless and cruel. And Ben was feeling deaf and blind at the moment. Only a persistent ringing sound rang in his ear.
Ben was hurt to see Alex in pain, in suffering.
He was wounded to see Alex avoiding his grasp.
Angry for allowing Alex be injured, and not only that, to sustain more injuries than he did.
Frustrated because he left Alex to fend for himself.
Alex was the one protecting him, for god's sake!
Alex was right to avoid him.
"Alex, God forbids, but I'll willingly swap places with you." Ben clenched and unclenched his fist, regulating his breathing to prevent himself from hyperventilating. He needed to be strong for Alex. To take care of him. To be there for him, and that's all Alex wanted.
Tears continued their journey down Ben's cheeks, leaving transparent tear tracks down to his chin, and pinching off as faceted water droplets, skidding a bit down his shirt, and finally being absorbed by the fibres of the shirt.
Absorbed.
Absorbed into his world, in his thoughts.
Ben couldn't do anything.
Not in this world of espionage.
Alex was scared. He was trying hard to forget. Forget about everything. And everything he was trying to forget resurfaces as nightmares to haunt him in his every dream. The dark side, was a never-ending road, that leads straight off a cliff into a pool of lava.
Shadows crept around him. They hovered around him, like swirling darkness trying to absorb him into a black hole. The same shadows that appeared on the night of the incident that enters every dream with a flourish of sparks and hisses.
Sadness was overwhelming.
Alex felt alone. As always, alone.
He tried fighting his way out of the darkness. Hoping to see some light. As people always say, there's always light at the end of the tunnel. But there was no light. There wasn't any tunnel either. He was just in some world, with no start nor end, no sky nor earth. And no one.
"Help."
Alex called out. His voiced sounded weak, laced with agony and frustration.
He hated to see himself weak.
Suddenly, the whole world seemed to tilt, and he fell. Spread-eagle on the floor, he could not move. He was pinned to the ground by unknown forces. Shadows started to grab him. Alex whimpered, and cowered, trying to avoid coming into contact with those creatures. Terror reflected in his eyes, and his breathing came in short, ragged breaths.
A sudden "beeeeeep~" filled the air. Pain. There was pain everywhere. Especially in his chest. Alex looked down, and found his shirt turning crimson. Blood flowed continuously, and soon, a puddle of blood formed in front of him. He touched his shirt, and the ruby-red liquid stained his hands. His hands shook, and he could feel himself getting weaker and weaker, as though the all his blood had drained out of him.
The bullet wound… He thought. It's back.
Had the sudden alarm meant his death was near? Or his death was here?
Alex felt as though his heart had jerked to a stop. Then he tumbled into darkness.
There you go! Is it too short? Comment below! I've been reading more FanFictions lately, and I found a lot of stories have a long chapters. And I know a lot of readers like long chapters. Short ones can be quite...unappealing and not exciting. So I'm trying to make my stories longer and more exciting. I'm planning to bring the climax over soon I hope. :)
Anyway, look out for more, and I hope you'll continue reading! :D Oh and, look out for poetries. I am a fan of poetry, and I write a lot of them. But please, if you are going to copy my poem, please tell me first, it's definitely copyrighted. But I don't think you guys will anyway. I wrote one on 'Funeral lilies' and thought it suits the AR fanfics, so it depends on whether my stories will need them.
Anyway thanks for reading!
Could you kindly comment below? Any feedback is fine, but I like constructive feedback. Thank You!
-Blue