Me: Alex Rider is my brother.

Alex: I'm an orphan.

Me: So. I could still be your big sis.

Alex: I don't have any siblings. Get a life.

Me: How DARE you speak that way to me! I own you!

Alex: (sighs as he pulls out bug attracting spray) You do not own me.

Me: Of course I do!

Alex: (points spray threateningly)…

Me: OR ANTHONY HOROWITZ COULD OWN YOU! I'M OPEN TO DEBATE! AHHAHAHA!

AN: I know I told a couple people I would update sooner, but I've kind of been in a car accident. Meaning a car hit me. I've been in the hospital multiple fractures. Dudes, I kid you not. A blinkin' car hit me. It hurt. A lot. I'm suing. Sooo…yeah. I think I might have confused a couple people with the time line. Alex went on a mission during summer vacation for a couple months. He spent a month in the hospital and this is his second day back. He had different classes "yesterday" and he only attended for the latter half of the day. He was seeing Jack off to the airport that morning. Hope that clears things up. Sorry if this story moves too fast for you.

By the time Mr. Andrews ,the new teacher, noticed Alex, the teenage spy was quite close to just finding an empty seat and taking it. Standing with a bag, even if it was only over one shoulder, was not the smartest idea if one had sixteen stitches in one's abdomen and 36 in one's back. Alex was doing his damn best to refrain from shaking.

Perhaps he wouldn't make it through the day.

"Ah!" Cried Mr. Andrews, smiling warmly, "Who might you be? A new student? Don't just hover in the corner over there! Come to the front and let's get you situated."

Alex, taken aback by this openly friendly greeting, walked warily over to the teacher's desk. As his face came out of the shadows, his peers immediately started whispering and snickering.

Whispering if they had only heard of him through vicious rumors.

Snickering if they knew him and knew that just over a year ago, he had been a straight A student. Snickering 'cause the once smart, popular blond boy had been demoted to their level.

Alex was surprised that he had to actually fight a blush down. He thought he had been scarred beyond embarrassment at such trivial words. But he wasn't surprised when he won the fight against the invading flush. Being in control was a Rider specialty.

"I'm Alex Rider," Alex replied respectfully but managing to sound uninterested at the same time, "I'm new, I guess. I just got back from a bout of swine flu."

"Really?" inquired the new teacher. Alex was instantly on guard, the man's response triggering his spy instinct to make sure he kept to the cover story. Even in school Alex couldn't seem to shake the person MI6 had made him. "And how was the flu? I hear it's just awful. When did you contract it?"

Alex decided to play the teen card to hide his wariness. "I guess it was pretty bad," he mumbled to the first question, making sure to relax like a normal teenager. " I got it right after coming back from America about two weeks ago."

Of course Alex hadn't been anywhere near America two weeks ago. He'd been at St. Dominics for the rich and military. But it corroborated with the "vacation" MI6 had faked for him.

Mr. Andrews grimaced in sympathy though Alex couldn't help but notice the twinge of boredom in the man's eye. "That's too bad," Andrews said sweetly, "I'm glad you're here now. Why don't you take a seat anywhere you'd like, hmmm?"

Alex muttered a single thanks and shuffled to the back of the classroom. He chose an old desk with an expletive engraved at the top left hand corner, away from everyone else. It wasn't like he minded sitting next to his peers, but Alex's self preservation made him take the seat in the corner where people couldn't see him from the window. He had a better escape that way, even if the room was on the second floor. Additionally, Alex remembered the feeling of being sniped and he was not over eager to repeat the experience.

Alex ran a quick, experienced eye around the classroom. Not one of the eleven other students in the room had any obvious weapons, no one looked like they shouldn't be here (except him of course), and he could easily reach both exits while not making a target out of himself. He had gotten lucky in this class, as opposed to his history class. There, Alex had to sit right next to the door. An easy escape route sure, but also a place of extreme vulnerability if anyone were to attack from the door. It didn't help that he was also in full view of anyone standing on the library roof across the road and on the 3rd floor.

Finally, Alex allowed himself a small degree of relaxation. He bit back a sigh of relief as taut muscles relaxed and quit pulling on his stitches. The pounding in his shoulder and back dulled down to an aching throb and Alex was eternally grateful that his pain meds from that morning had yet to stop working. His body may be feeling like crap now, but off the meds, he could hardly breathe.

Alex shifted his focus from his body to Mr. Andrews and his lesson on quadratic equations. Though he had already taught himself this in the long empty hours he had at the hospital, Alex dutifully took notes like everyone else was supposed to be doing. Of course, the majority of his peers were in this remedial class because of their refusal to take notes in the regular class, so why should they change their habits now?

Luckily for them, Mr. Andrews was a good teacher, much to Alex's delight. He was efficient and good natured, stopping often to allow for questions. There never were any, but Alex appreciated the effort from the young teacher.

By the time the bell rang to go to the next class, Alex, despite having learned nothing he didn't already know, was in a good mood. After learning the skill to read the mood of a room, it was hard to switch it off and Alex always enjoyed such a firmly light hearted atmosphere, even if this one was a bit dampened by the other petulant adolescents.

Alex ignored his body's protests as he jogged down the stairs to his last class of the day, Advanced Spanish. This was the only class he had adamantly refused to be demoted in, and the school had reluctantly agreed. Alex supposed that being fluent in the language had given him considerable persuasive power.

The school had actually then wanted him to take a different language, one that he wasn't already fluent in, but were horrified to find that this supposed "druggie" was fluent not only in Spanish, but in the school's other language courses which included Japanese, German, Russian, and Italian. Alex had had a LOT of time in the hospital, and his quick learning ability had made short work of the languages he didn't already know. It only added to his amusement when the school discovered that he was fluent in French and Hindi now, too.

Mrs. Jaclyn was overjoyed to see Alex, her star pupil. She had been a little put out with his absences, but she quickly got over it when he still received perfect scores on all his work.

Alex was also glad to be back in Spanish class. For him it was down time since the room had no window and one door which was kept firmly locked throughout the class period to prevent late pupils from entering.

The class was over too quickly for Alex, who had just been on the verge of catching some much needed sleep. Mrs. Jaclyn, who had been watching Alex's eyes begin to droop cursed the bell when it startle him to full wakefulness. She had noticed the large purple bags under Alex's eyes and had hoped that he would catch a couple of winks. Today had been review and she knew better than anyone that Alex Rider didn't need any review.

Alex thanked his lucky stars that the bell had kept him from falling asleep. He also cursed himself for almost dozing off. Recently, his sleep had been plagued by nightmares, and the last thing he needed was for his classmates to see him having one and then spread rumors that he had "tripped out" in Spanish.

Wearily, Alex pushed himself out of the classroom and towards the bike racks on the far side of campus. He clumsily undid his lock, his limbs suddenly seeming to have used up his surplus of energy for the day.

"Hey Alex!" called Tom, coming to stand next to his admittedly ill looking best mate.

"Hey Tom," Alex greeted back as Harris began to scan the line of cars in front of the school for his mom. Alex began to wheel his bike away when Tom caught his arm. Alex tiredly turned to face his best friend who seemed to be repressing excitement.

"So Al," the dark haired boy began, "When are you gonna tell me? You know, about your mission? Can I come over today? We never set a time, you know, at lunch."

Alex ran a tired hand over his face and examined his best friend closely. Tom's eyes were shining with excitement, no doubt already imaging how cool his mission must have been for him to be gone an entire month.

As Alex's empty eyes ran over and over his face, Tom's grin began to slip. He didn't like how he couldn't read his best friend's eyes anymore. He didn't like how Alex seemed to not trust him anymore. Plus, Alex's cold assessment was making Tom distinctly uncomfortable.

When Alex noticed Tom's dimming enthusiasm, he forced a small smile on his face. If Tom noticed that the smile didn't reach Alex's eyes, he didn't let on if his own returning grin was anything to go by.

"Actually, today doesn't work for me, Tom," Alex was really starting to hate today, in fact, "But how about tomorrow at 5?"

Tom was positively beaming as he raced to his mom's car, his excited "see you tomorrow, Al" still ringing faintly in Alex's ears.

With a sigh, Alex forced his heavy limbs to pedal him home. When he reached his house he parked his bike on the side and quickly circled the hous, searching for anything that shouldn't be there or had been moved. Once satisfied that nothing was out of order, Alex opened the door and performed a quick, but thorough search of the house and was gratified to find nothing. He wasn't sure if he would have been up to a fight if one had been called for, anyway.

Alex dropped off his bag in his room before heading downstairs to eat a light snack. He was supposed to eat in small doses so as to not upset the fragile state his stomach was in. Not only had Alex been starved in India, but a few of the lacerations on his abdomen had pierced his stomach. In fact, Alex would be dead now if his tormentors hadn't had a policy to keep him alive until he was completely drained of information. Information that he either didn't have or couldn't tell. Mostly a little of both. Over the days in captivity, Alex had grown to loathe that policy.

Alex grabbed a little container of Jell-O from the fridge and went into the hall to the answering machine. There was, as usual, a message from Jack waiting for him. American Hospital visiting hours were opposite of Alex's school hours so it was a rare occurrence for Jack and Alex to talk voice to voice.

"Hey Alex!" called the cheerful red headed voice from the small metal box. The sound of her warm, familiar voice was almost enough to make Alex grin. Almost.

"Just calling to check in! How was your second day of school? Did the move you up in any of your classes? Just think how surprised they'll be when you do! You did a lot of good studying, kiddo! Anyway, it's raining here. Duh! It's the east coast! I'm surprised it's not snowing! Dad's…well I just got to stay here until the time comes, you know? I know, I've said it a thousand and six, no, seven, times but I'm sorry, Alex. When I come back, we'll go on vacation, 'kay? Just the two of us!

"But, beyond that? How are you feeling buster? Don't forget to take your pain meds! You're supposed to take them at 8 in the morning,4 in the afternoon, and before you go to bed, remember? And don't forget to mark each time off on the calendar! I'm going to check when I get back!"

At this, Alex might have looked faintly guilty. He glanced at his watch. 4:30. He hastily swallowed a pill from the bottle he kept by the phone for such occasions. He had one upstairs too, for before he went to bed. Alex pulled a little notebook from his pocket and flipped it open to the current date. Under the date, there was three boxes. One was already check marked. Quickly Alex checked a second one and slipped the book back into his pocket. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and played the rest of the message.

"Good," Jack continued, "Now that that's done, I love you and I will call back tomorrow! If there is an emergency call my 2nd cell 'kay? Love you!"

Alex called her on her first cell phone and left a brief, but relatively warm message in which he explained that he had only been going to school for two days now, and there was no way he would have moved up already. He promised that he was dutifully taking his pills and wished her Dad well. He signed off with his heartfelt love. Normal teens may not say "I love you" to their guardians like he did, but Alex had learned a few things about his profession since India. He really didn't know when his last expression of love would really be his last.

As silence once more reigned in the empty house, Alex padded upstairs to his room. His entire body rebelled at the thought of not getting into bed and doing his homework, but he gritted his teethe and pulled his bag over to his desk.

At 8:30, Alex was done with all of his homework and a good percentage of his make-up work. He had gotten a lot of it done in the hospital, but the pile seemed to be never ending.

Alex forced himself to stay awake as he went through his normal routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and pulling on a white shirt and plaid pajama bottoms Jack had gotten him for Christmas one year or another. He tried to not look at his reflection in the mirror as he changed, but it was inevitable.

A mere shadow of the boy he used to be stared back at Alex. Sure he had kept his healthy glow of being fit, but right now that was being buried by the pale complexion of one who is very severely injured. A new, white scare divided his left eyebrow in half. His face had grown sharper, more defined and his once warm brown eyes were hollow and dead, set into an expressionless face. His torso was well toned, but, currently, also pale. His bullet wound stood out over his heart, a scarred reminder that he was never safe. He had other assorted scars scattered here and there but what really drew the eye were the healing, pink cuts, pulled together by a starkly contrasting black thread. The two wounds intersected each other 4 inches above his left hip, but that was where the similarities between the two ended. The one that stretched vertically across his abs was made by a knife, and although it had been slanted upward and had been the one to pierce his stomach, it probably would become a thin white line in about 2 weeks. The second wound, made on top of the first was a different story. This one started two inches diagonally right to his belly button and cut viciously down to his left hip. And it was made with a chain saw. The doctors said it was lucky that his captors had such good medical procedures or Alex would have been deformed for life. As it was, his tormentors had managed to sew his muscles perfectly back together so that they could work as well as before. Alex almost killed the St. Dominic's doctor. Lucky, huh? Alex would have that horrendous reminder plastered on his body for all eternity. And even thought they had managed to save his muscles, it still hurt like a bitch. His legs were another gallery of mismatched scars made with everything from cigarettes to needles to hammers to knives. Luckily his captors had wanted him un-handicapped so that he could still be the perfect torture mouse. And they made good use of their little mouse. They had really wanted that information that they had never gotten.

But Alex's back was a real piece of work. Only three of the 24 whip marks had needed stitches. And those three hadn't technically come from a whip. A whip was one of the preferred torture devices that Scorpia had used on him, hence the whip scars. However, the three scores in his flesh that required stitching had actually come from a bear. A vicious bear who had impeded his escape from that hell hole. A bear with maddened red eyes, and a vicious mouth, whose footfalls made the earth behind Alex tremble louder than his panting breath…

Alex jerked back from the mirror, firmly pulling his white shirt over his scars. He stared at his face, now expressionless but with eyes brimming full of anger. MI6 had made him like this. He hated the way this life had changed him. It was all MI6's fault. Jaw clenched, Alex turned from the bathroom mirror and started to head toward his room.

MI6's fault.

Alex whirled around suddenly and drove his fist into the mirror, shattering his reflection. No. MI6's reflection.

He pulled the glass shards from his hand as he headed to his room. He hardly felt the pain anymore. In his room, he quickly wrapped his hand in gauze. Then he turned off the light and got into bed after setting his alarm clock to 7 am. Alex went to sleep, trying not to think of how he was alone, with no warm person to comfort him, in his big, empty house. Tried not to think about how alone he was.

Alone except for his nightmares.

LONG CHAPTER=FORGIVENESS?