Journey - REVISED EDITION

A Rider's Luck

NOTE: I don't own Alex Rider or any of the other characters (except Falcon and even then, he's not completely mine either because I've copied off of a real life person and my idea of what they could be, but you didn't need to know that and ok bye).

A week full of recovery later and Alex was discharged from the hospital. Free to return to the safe-house, he was given plenty of pain medication and lists of instructions and possible side effects that might occur from being shot in the stomach.

It goes without saying that he didn't read them, and didn't tell the others about it either. He didn't need to be coddled.

It was already incredibly embarrassing that he'd had a panic attack in front of Falcon, that he'd broken down right before the eyes of the probably-now-very-concerned SAS soldier.

He promised himself, as soon as he was completely coherent and not doped up with drugs and painkillers, that that would never happen again.

Closing himself off from the world, he ignored the team's questions and gentle probes for information. Wolf's anger, Snake's quiet frustration, Eagle's determination, and Fox's sad looks couldn't affect him.

Mrs. Jones's phone calls went unanswered.

Tom's texts went unread.

In the end, it was the silent acceptance from Falcon that broke him.

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"Alex." There was a knock on the door.

Alex chewed softly on his pencil, algebra spread out in front of him on his bunk in the bedroom they all shared. He still had so much homework left over from last year.

"Alex." Falcon said again.

Alex ignored the way the bed dipped as Falcon sat down next to him. He ignored the shakiness in the soldier's voice and concentrated instead on the small threads coming loose on his sweatpants, the bone deep ache in his midsection, the hunger pains that he refused to satiate, the numbers swimming before his eyes.

"You should eat something." Falcon spoke softly.

"'m not hungry." Alex mumbled around the pencil, his fingers involuntarily reaching up and running through his dark blonde hairs.

Falcon sighed, long and drawn out.

"I know you're hurting. And I want to help you. But I can't if you won't stop pushing me away and hiding behind your walls."

Alex said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm leaving."

Alex stopped breathing.

Wait. What?

Falcon's quiet voice went on. "There's this politician who needs a bodyguard for some meeting overseas and I need the extra experience. Headquarters called yesterday. It shouldn't take longer than three days and then, if everything goes well, I'll be back."

Alex took the pencil out of his mouth with shaking hands, refusing to meet Falcon's searching eyes. He'd been in the profession long enough to know that things never went as planned, something always went wrong, and he wanted to call out, scream, cry, anything, to make Falcon stay. Please don't leave. Please.

"Just thought I'd let you know." Falcon got up and patted Alex softly on the shoulder.

Alex didn't respond. He still couldn't breathe. Please. No. Don't go.