Author: Lady Eivel PM
Alex gets an unexpected visit. Rated for language.Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural - Words: 930 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 4 - Published: 11-10-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3883271
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Summary: Alex gets an unexpected visit.
Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.
A/N Very, very slight spoilers for Snakehead, but no plot giveaways. However, if you would like to remain totally ignorant of the book's every detail, press the backspace button now.
"Good day?" Jack called as Alex walked in through the door. He was tired, his shoulders were killing him, his scar was playing up again and he was in a foul mood. As such, he forced himself not to answer, instead dragging his ridiculously heavy bag upstairs and into his room, where he pulled out the piles of books and folders from his bag and dumped them in a file on his desk. Reaching for his French folder, he resignedly started going through the lists of adjective forms and doing the pointless exercises on the textbook pages. After a while, he was bored and fed up, on top of everything else.
"Wish they'd just give me all the qualifications I need instead of just doctor's notes." He muttered, 'they' being MI6 and various other intelligence agencies. To hell with the lot of them. That Snakehead nightmare had been his last mission, he had promised himself that. Although, given what had happened in the past, he wasn't at all sure that he wouldn't be recalled, despite Mrs Jones' affirmations to the contrary.
"Bastards, aren't they?" Alex spun around to see a small figure standing in the shadow of his wardrobe.
"Who are you?" He asked, standing slowly.
"Roy. And before you ask, I'm here because I heard a bit about you, and I'm curious."
"MI6, or whatever they call it here. Where I come from it's CIA, but it makes no difference. They're both manipulative as hell, and they both don't care what happens to you. At least, not in my case."
"Wait a sec... how do you know about MI6? And how are you...?"
"Involved with the CIA? They hired me, same as you. Well, I say hired. More like 'Get your butt over to the training camp, then go get the bad guys' type thing, but you get the picture." Alex nodded, remembering all too well what had happened after his uncle's death.
"I do. So you're a spy?"
"So why did the CIA need to use me then? Couldn't they have got one of their own teenage agents to do their dirty work?"
"That's my point. I was the only one- a trial run if you like. Unfortunately for me, it failed." The boy stepped forward and Alex gasped as he finally saw what he meant.
"Dead, I know." He gave a short bark of mirthless laughter. "Being shot was a bit of a giveaway. It's actually quite fun- I spooked the hell out of some of the idiots in the CIA offices. The look on their faces was priceless!"
"Okay, this is it. I've finally gone insane." Alex muttered, running a hand through his hair. The other boy laughed again, this time sounding amused.
"They're not going to let you go, you know. The CIA at least won't risk having another teenage agent, and possibly death of said agent, on their hands. You're all they've got in that department."
"Well, if they could pass my GCSEs and A-Levels for me, I wouldn't mind so much."
"They could probably manage it. But you know they're not going to, so don't get your hopes up." Alex nodded, slightly dazed at the thought of him having a normal conversation with a dead boy.
"So what happened to you, exactly?"
"They sent me after some gangs in Miami that were doing drugs everywhere. Trouble is, I got scared. Messed up. Next thing I knew, I was in a back alley getting shot in the stomach."
"Don't be. Being dead is better than working for that lot. Besides, there's no-one to miss me, so who cares? To them, I'm just another kid. That's why I came. If they come back for you, Alex, say no. Whatever happens. Because, being dead and all, I see a lot. And I can't tell you much, but if you accept what they're going to ask you next, it won't be pleasant."
"What'll happen to me?"
"I'm not allowed to say. Just remember what I said." The boy looked worried. "I have to go."
"Wait- Roy!" Alex called, but it was too late. He had already vanished, leaving more questions than Alex had had when he arrived.
But he was right. MI6 did come calling again, on behalf of the CIA. They wanted him to finish Roy's mission. And their threats got them somewhere- Tom was in trouble this time. So Alex went out.
There's a place in Chelsea, a little cemetery, where you can find two Rider gravestones. Neither of them say much, indeed, at the second funeral, most of the people who knew the dead well enough to say anything on their behalf were too distraught to. But Alex wouldn't have minded much. And when various MI6 and CIA offices were ransacked in the next few years, nearby witnesses said they had heard two boys- teenagers- laughing together, but they were never found.
And in the end, Alex agreed with Roy. Being dead was so much more fun than living for MI6.