Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Alex spat on the ground, feeling the dried blood on his molars from the fall that made him bite his cheek earlier. The disgusting blob quickly got washed away on the pavement by the pouring rain, along with other filth. It was wretchedly cold right now, every breeze of wind felt deep to the bones, and considering how wet he was it was a miracle he didn’t get hypothermia. Wiping his overgrown hair out of his eyes, he entered the building.

It was the middle of the night, so the lobby was dark. Alex did not feel bad for dripping water all over the carpet. The lobby didn’t feel that different from outside, but at least it was slightly warmer. He looked around for an elevator, but as he expected there was none. Of course Ben wouldn’t choose a complex with elevators, those things are surprisingly easy to hack into. It was smart, but it wasn’t in Alex’s favor considering the half-tied wound on his right leg. This day wholly sucked.

Heaving a sigh, he walked over to the stairs and began a slow climb up, moving one step at a time while clinging to the rails. They left a rusty smell on his hands, but it could just be the dried blood already on his palms. The heavy rain pattered outside, accompanied by Alex’s breathing, his footsteps echoing through the empty hallways.

Eventually, he reached the fourth floor. By this time, his leg wound had ached again, every walk sending a jolt of pain upwards. His clothes had dried a bit, still damp but not dripping wet anymore. Still, it clung slimily to his skin. He knew he looked like crap right now. His nose may or may not be bruised from a punch, the same punch that made him fall and bite his cheek, his clothes were stained by grimes and other substances, and he hadn’t slept in three days. Alex sucked it up and dragged himself over to Ben’s door, door number 405, and knocked. The corner of his eyes were beginning to blur. He hoped Ben wasn’t asleep, or else he’d have to ring the doorbell, and he didn’t want to cause more attention to himself.

Luckily, he heard footsteps. Then the sound of the lock being turned. Then the sound of multiple locks being turned, then finally the creaking of the door knob. By this point, he had to stabilize himself with a hand on the door frame and was seconds away from passing out. He realized that passing out was inevitable, so it was either the cold ground, or inside Ben’s flat.

The door opened, and warm light poured out. Ben stood, eyes wide open.

“Hello, Ben.” Alex croaked, before his eyes rolled back and he fell forward.

Chapter Text

Ben almost rolled his head forward, but he didn’t. He rubbed the corners of his eyes, his fingers unnaturally cold. The rain outside was still pouring down, although less heavy than before. He watched the droplets swim down his window, zoning out again. His feet also felt cold. He would’ve put some socks on Alex, but he didn’t have any of the boy’s size. In fact, Ben would like to put on a pair himself, but something told him not to leave Alex’s side. Probably because of the way Alex looked at Ben before he fainted earlier.

Ben ran a hand through his face, compressing a groan. Months of not seeing the boy, and he turned up to Ben’s door in an absolutely crap state. His private flat, too, and not the 3 decoy flats he put up all over London either. As far as he’s concerned, only certain MI6 operatives and his past SAS unit knew of this location. He’d have to ask Alex about it later. It seems as though there were still many things about the boy spy that Ben didn’t know about.

Like what Alex was doing, for example. Mrs. Jones did let it slip that she won’t be needing Alex anymore, after certain events that happened in Cairo. Either she had lied, or Alex just couldn’t keep himself from more trouble. Both were equally bad according to Ben. Despite the limited meetings he’s had with Alex, the boy was still a teenager, and what was a teenager doing in spywork anyway? It occurred to Ben Daniels that he never knew why Alex ended up here.

Ben took the thermometer and checked Alex’s temperature again, then considered getting more blankets. He leaned back on his chair inside the small guest bedroom, where Alex was currently laying on the bed. Ben turned this room into his work-room, hence the various paperwork on the floor that he had hurriedly pushed out of bed in lieu of laying Alex down. The bedsheet was made of denim, therefore not that comfortable or soft to lay down, but it was better than the couch. In the spur of the moment, he had placed Alex on the couch earlier, not realizing that the kid was soaked. After bandaging him properly and changing him into dry clothes, Ben decided the uncomfortable bed was better than a damp couch, and here they are. Him and Alex were almost the same height, but the boy felt light and skinny in his arms.

The leg wound was the worst. Ben was no medic, as that was Snake’s job, but the injury was pretty severe. It seemed like a shard had once been embedded in it, but Alex most likely got it out before an infection could take place. The thought of Alex fishing a broken shard out of his flesh made Ben’s stomach churned. It was then bandaged up clumsily by Alex. Then Ben realized the boy had to walk a distance and climbed 4 flights of stairs to reach him, further damaging the injury. A thought appeared, probing at the fact that had Ben rented a building with elevators this wouldn’t happen, but he pushed the thought away and focused on the matter at hand.

Which was just waiting. It was deadly silent, save for the sound of rain and occasional faraway lightning strikes. He did turn off all the lights in his flat. Alex had no head injuries, but just to be sure. Ben stared at a picture of him and Wolf on the wall. They wore their SAS uniforms and stood arm-in-arm with their helmets off, posing for the camera. Wolf had a peace sign, which he didn’t know the man could make. Ben rarely kept framed pictures around, like most agents, as they didn’t want the identity of their loved ones compromised, so he only kept a few of his treasured memories. The picture was taken during a mission in the Bahamas, hence the ocean behind them.

A grunt interrupted his musings. Ben heard the shifting of fabrics before he even looked. He turned just in time to see Alex pushing off the blankets. The kid made an attempt to sit up.

“Alex-” Ben reacted without thinking, placing a hand on Alex’s chest to stop him. He felt the boy flinch away from the touch and quickly retracted his arm. “Oh- I’m sorry, I just-”

“Ben?” Alex muttered, sinking back into the bed. He squinted his eyes, as if only recognizing Ben in the darkness of the room.

“It’s me.” Ben said slowly, reaching out to get the glass of water on the nightstand. The water was now colder than necessary, as it had been sitting there for hours. Ben handed Alex the glass. “How are you feeling?”

Alex looked away, tilting his head up a bit to sip before laying back. Ben took the empty cup, suddenly having the thought to pull the blankets back over Alex. Given how he reacted with Ben touching him earlier, he decided against it.

“I’m fine.” Alex replied quietly.

“No you’re not.” Ben said, his voice softened. He massaged his temples. “Look, I have questions, but you need to rest. I’ll get the answers in the morning.” He said with the tone of finality, as no matter how curious he was, Alex’s well-being was still top priority. In the dim lights of the guest room, only shadowed by the downpour outside, he couldn’t make out Alex’s face on the bed, but he saw the action of lips pursing.

Alex didn’t look happy about it. Maybe he was just tired after being injured. After all, Alex wasn’t the chatty sort. This whole ordeal puzzled Ben to no ends. He sat for a while more, listening to the turning sounds of fabric. After a while, or maybe just a few minutes, Alex’s breathing calmed and the boy seemed asleep. Ben reached and pulled the multiple blankets over his shoulder, before standing up to leave the room. His knees cracked quite loudly.

On his way out, he glanced at the window. Still raining. It was going to be a damp day tomorrow. He needed to fix the leak in his bathroom, his grocery was running out, and there was an injured teenager sleeping in his guest room, who was also a spy. The night was odd, and he had more questions than he did answers. For once, Ben was worried. No word from Alex for months, and then this happened. Was Mrs. Jones involved somehow? It had to be. The wound on Alex’s leg was most likely caused by an explosion, and Ben was sure buildings don’t just explode on you on a random Thursday. Not to mention the very deliberate bruise on Alex’s nose, Ben had been on the job long enough to know what caused it.

If Ben didn’t question why a boy was saving the world before, why would he now?

Probably because the first person Alex went to when he was injured seemed to be Ben. Either that, or he went to Ben because there was no one left at all.

The thought sent some turmoil through his mind. Outside, lightning struck.

----------

The light of dawn filtered through the windows, etching shadows inside Ben’s apartment. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the dim lights as he closed the door and latched all of his locks in place. He had been out since the early morning, getting grocery among other things, mainly more bandages for Alex. He felt mildly bad for leaving the injured kid in the flat alone, but he seemed to be sleeping soundly. On his way back, Ben took several laps around the general area of his building, looking for signs of any explosions or if Alex had been followed back. He found none, which was reassuring for the latter, but troubling for the former, as it meant that Alex did limp a distance just to get to Ben. The heavy rain likely washed away some of the clues, but the facts alone add to his growing concerns.

The heavy downpour did stop altogether, now only leaving puddles of mud on the streets. He placed his grocery bags and other bags on the counter, taking off his dirty boots. He also noticed Alex’s sneakers, dirty to the point of turning into a brownish color, thrown to the side last night in his hasty panic. He mentally noted it down to get Alex new shoes, but fixed the sneakers nonetheless. Ben grabbed a few pairs of socks from one of the bags and was about to go put them in the guest room’s drawers, but stopped in his tracks as he noticed Alex sitting on the couch.

When did the boy wake up? Alex was just sitting, staring blankly at the turned off TV, with dark circles under his eyes. Ben could see him better now with the lights outside. His light hair was messy, slightly overgrown, his face older than the last time Ben saw him. Alex’s bruised nose was noticeable even from this distance. His frame looked almost smaller in Ben’s clothes. Ben set the socks back on the counter and grabbed a boxed sandwich, before making his way over to the couch.

Surely, Alex heard his steps and blinked out of his gazeless stare. Ben threw him the sandwich and he caught it, confused for a split second before his eyes settled back to indifference.

“So.” Ben began, sitting down next but not too close to Alex. “Let’s start with the obvious. How did you even know where I live?”

Alex looked up. “It’s not hard.” He said, and Ben waited, but Alex didn’t elaborate more.

“Okay. What exactly happened last night?” Ben asked, eye trailing towards Alex. The boy seemed to stiffened, his jaws clenched.

“Nothing happened. I was just careless, that’s all.” Alex replied, avoiding the topic.

“Are you… on a mission?” On a mission or not, Ben would like to help. The whole thing seemed unlikely, given what Mrs. Jones said. The woman could may as well have lied to him, but for what? He knew there were things Mrs. Jones kept hidden from him and he respected her for that, running MI6 wasn’t easy after all. But for Alex Rider to turn up injured to his door after she had said they wouldn’t be giving him missions anymore was rightfully odd.

“No.” Alex said, almost defensively.

“Alex, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth-”

“Who asked you to help?” Alex retorted before he froze. Ben stared as Alex clicked his mouth shut, an expression of guilt flashed his eyes before it disappeared. For a moment, there was a tense silence.

Did Ben do something wrong? Maybe he had been too straightforward. Truthfully, he did not have much past experiences with kids, let alone teenagers. He didn’t have younger siblings, and the only times he interacted with children were when he met Wolf’s siblings, and when he was working. Alex showed up at his house, so he thought… Perhaps the kid just needed a place to stay, and that was all. Perhaps Ben was overthinking this.

“I’m going to leave as soon as possible.” Alex’s quiet inquiry was almost drowned out by Ben’s internal monologues, but that screeched his thoughts to a halt.

“What? No. You’re staying here until the injury heals.” Ben declared, turning to look at Alex again.

Alex’s brows furrowed. “But-”

“You’re not walking anywhere with an injured leg, Alex.” Ben said, softer than before.

“Am I- not invading?” Alex avoided eye contact again. This kid sounded small, almost meek, as a contrast to the determined teenager Ben met in Bangkok. Which was also peculiar. As far as Ben knows, a person doesn't go through this drastic of a change in the span of months. Something must have happened to Alex. Something Mrs. Jones must know.

“I can promise you, you’re not invading.” Ben reassured, almost reaching out a hand to place on Alex’s shoulder, but stopped himself in time.

Ben never cared much. Thinking back, he had never put a thought out as to why a 14-year-old was at Brecon Beacons, then at MI6. Ignorant he was back then. For some curious reason, Ben cared now.

Chapter Text

Truth be told, Alex didn’t sleep an ounce last night. It had been easy enough to slow his breath down and faked being asleep in the darkness of the night, but Alex also knew Ben was suspicious of him now. The tiredness probably showed on his face. He wouldn’t know, since there were no mirrors in the bathroom. One thing he knew for certain was that he looked like crap.

He did not know the reason why he went to Ben’s flat. Alex could’ve easily gone to some cheap motel and lay on the bed until starvation and exhaustion took him, at least it would be easier, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to be a nuisance to Ben, but he was the only choice Alex had left.

No matter. After his leg healed properly, he would soon be out of this place and then hopefully, in America. Then MI6 won’t bother with him anymore, and let’s hope the CIA will do the same. His chest tightened at the memory of being water-boarded.

Do not think about Cairo.

Alex gulped his lunch down, fully aware of Ben standing at the kitchen counter, boiling water for his tea. Ben had his back to him. Having your back to someone was a deadly mistake most agents make, as this allows for an attack opportunity. It was a vulnerable position, as they won’t be able to turn in time. The blow could land on a vital organ, or on the spine, which was an efficient way to incapacitate someone. For instance, if Alex were to attack, Ben wouldn't see it coming. But he would never do that to Ben. The mere thought of it revolted Alex. What was he thinking?

Ben turned to grab tea bags from a cabinet. Alex sighed, knowing that Ben can’t hear his thoughts. He focused on the current matter and managed to finish the rest of his egg fried rice in record time. Ben was a great cook. He thought the man would’ve been a professional chef if he hadn’t gone for a career in spywork. Ben sat down, opposite of Alex on the counter, a tea mug in hand. He gave another mug to Alex before pouring an incredulous amount of milk in his tea.

“So, do you have anyone I could call?” Ben asked. “To inform them you’re with me.”

An image of Jack flashed through his mind, followed by a pang to the heart. Alex bit his lip, resisting the urge to bite his nails again. “No, I don’t.” There was Mrs. Jones, but she was out of the question. Given how MI6 treated him, he could care less about the dirt they walked on.

Ben looked like he wanted to inquire more, but didn’t say anything. Good. Alex hoped he kept it that way.

They spent the next minutes drinking tea in silence. Alex was halfway through his cup before realizing it was chamomile. Which was terrible, because chamomile tea is known for sleep inducing, and the last thing he needed right now was sleep. Alex paused, briefly considering chucking the whole thing away, but he hesitated. He glanced at Ben, who was eyeing the calendar, and quickly chugged the whole thing down, its hotness numbing his throat slightly.

Ben turned back, unaware of the action. “Alex, do you have school? It is Friday.”

A most reasonable question to ask if this was any other situation, but unfortunately it was not. “I hadn’t gone to school in a long time.” It felt like a faraway dream. Contrary to most kids his age, Alex was fond of school, for it provided a time where he was away from missions and villains, a place where he could act his age. Alex hadn’t acted his age in a long time. He quite missed school, but he knew going back to Brookland was impossible now.

Ben raised his brows and almost asked for the reason, before he fell silent. No doubt the agent had placed the two and two together - Alex having no one Ben could call, and Alex not going to school. Alex could feel Ben’s concern rising with each moment. And finally, he asked the dreaded question. “Who’s been taking care of you then?”

Alex felt the need to lie again, but he knew this problem was one he couldn’t cover up because Ben would find out no matter what, so with much weariness he replied. “...The bank.” Ben knew full well ‘the bank’ here meant MI6.

“What?” This time Ben couldn’t contain his shock. Tea forgotten, he turned his full attention to Alex. “MI6’s your legal guardian now? That can’t be right.”

“It’s either that or foster care.” Alex said tentatively, cupping his palms around the empty mug. His nails were blunt from biting them excessively, almost shortened down to the cuticle. He tried quitting but found it almost impossible, because it was the only thing that distracted him from everything else.

“But-” Ben spoke in dismay. “Please tell me they pay you.” Alex shook his head. “Oh, for god’s sake-” He cut himself off, perhaps aware that he might upset Alex if he said anything more. Alex was, in fact, not upset, but rather taken back at the sight of someone getting riled up over him. Rarely anyone had done that, aside from Tom, Ja-

Do not think about Cairo.

While Ben pursed his lips, gripping his mug hard enough his knuckles turned white, Alex kept his head low. He tried to keep his face stoic, ignoring the bubbling emotions. “It’s fine. I’m okay.”

“No, Alex, you’re not.” Ben said steadily, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

Alex’s stomach dropped, because he most certainly did not want to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept, and he didn’t want to remember. His lids felt heavy, and the effects of the chamomile tea would kick in very soon. “I’m not tired.”

“You were injured, so your body needs healing.” Ben explained simply, as kind as a school teacher explaining a subject to his students. “Wait, let me change your bandages first.” Ben quickly drank the rest of his tea and stood up to put it in the sink, grabbing Alex’s mug on the way also. He went over to the counter and took the newly-bought bandages.

The two of them migrated to the couch, where the process of unwrapping began. Both Alex and Ben were familiar with addressing a wound, with Alex being more experienced in getting treated for injuries than any other kid in Britain. Most kids in Britain have not been shot or stabbed at. Alex zoned out, staring at the denim texture of Ben’s couch. The agent was re-wrapping new bandages skillfully, it was almost better than being in a hospital. Alex hated hospitals, for they always had the sickly smell of medicine and the beeping of machines annoyed him very much. He secretly thanked Ben for not taking him to a hospital. Perhaps it was from the mutual understanding between two spies, since hospitals would ask questions they can’t share the answers to.

The process went by in a blur, but once Alex caught a glimpse of his wound. It sat perched on his left leg right below the knee. The skin around was slightly red and inflamed, but not to a concerning degree. Ben worked in silence, focused but he was no doubt thinking of something else. Alex didn’t like being in this state, injured, weak and dependent. But he was with Ben, and Ben seemed like he didn’t mind one bit. Was he that feeble? Did he not know what Alex had done?

But Ben didn’t know, and Alex intended to keep it that way. Ben must not know, because what would he think of Alex afterwards? Would Ben feel disgusted, even disappointed in him after learning that he had blood on his hands?

“Are you in pain?” Ben said.

“What?” A sliver of fear shot through Alex.

“Is your wound feeling uncomfortable? I have painkillers if you’d like. I don’t know if children should take painkillers though.” Ben scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“It feels fine.” Alex moved his leg, tested the muscles and did not find anything unusual. “Thank you, Ben.”

Ben smiled. After a few more inquiries about Alex’s leg wound, Ben ushered him back to the guest room. He declined the man’s request to help him back, but Alex insisted he could walk fine. He in fact was grunting with every step. His limbs were tired, less alert, and he was resisting yawns because it made his bruised nose cramp.

Ben had cleaned up the guest room. The littering paperwork was gone, the wooden floor was vacuumed and the bed was made nicely. The curtains were shut, a thin line of light shining through the opening. Alex closed the door but did not shut it all the way. That way, he could see the hallway in case of someone creeping up. Another paranoid habit of his. Carefully arranging himself on the bed so that none of his other injuries hurt, Alex laid staring at the ceiling. The room was warm, the only source of cooling was a standing fan in the corner that creaked at a certain angle. The low rumbling was almost comfortable, but he did not will himself to sleep.

Alex thought about Ben. The man was oddly nice to him, but perhaps it was just basic decency that he mistook for kindness. He wouldn’t stay here long anyway. This whole thing was merely temporary, and he’d get out of here at the first chance. But the way Ben had looked so troubled earlier… He shook the thoughts away. He wasn’t thinking straight, and he was weary to the bone. Every fiber in his body ached for him to rest, but he simply wouldn’t.

The chamomile left an aftertaste in his mouth. Alex’s head felt light, his eyelids dropping every once in a while. He thought he would have gotten used to staring at the ceiling endlessly for hours at this point. His hands curled on top of his stomach, feeling his ribs underneath, alongside many scars. The most notable one was a bullet scar below his heart, gotten from a sniper once upon a time. The scar would ache every once in a while with phantom pain, as if cruelly reminding him of the memory.

As he laid on the firm bed with the low humming of the fan and the buzzing of his thoughts, his eyes dropped, and despite Alex’s best efforts, sleep overtook him.

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The binds dug into his skin, rendering him immovable, as he sat on the uncomfortable leather chair with devices hooked to him. Out of the corner of his eyes, figures blurred, the only thing present in his head was a bone-deep fear and the beeping of his heart monitor. His skin felt chilled from the coldness, the spots where Jack had hugged him earlier tingled, as if trying to get the feeling back. His heart was louder than its beeps, thumping in his ears. No matter how much he struggled, the binds did not bulge. He hoped it would be enough, and Jack would be able to escape. Somewhere, he knew that the chances of him getting out was impossible, and it was most likely he’d never see her again. Maybe the CIA would help her, get her family a new identity, and she’d go back to America to see them again. As for Alex…

People were speaking, but barely any words filtered through his mind. The spotlights were alarmingly bright, stinging his eyes. His fingertips felt cold and clammy against the armrests of the chair. He turned, and a face that looked no more different than himself stared back at him. The clone’s eyes were wide, fair hair flailing, jagged burn scars running up his neck. He was grinning, and Alex thought he’d never see that expression on his own face.

The TV was pushed out and turned on. The other man stood up, his face like stone, but a glint of amusement in his eyes. He began to say something, but the words did not make sense to Alex, or perhaps his mudded brain had drowned them all out in this dream. He did not want to hear it again. He did not want to see all of this again.

On the black and white screen, he saw the figure of Jack, but could not make out her red hair or her brilliant eyes in the night. He saw her breaking out of the cell and knew what was coming, but could do nothing to stop it.

Alex felt the words coming out before he registered it. “Please. She has nothing to do with this. You don’t have to hurt her.” A hint of desperation in his tone.

Jack got into the car. Razim was talking again, but the machines were beeping loudly. Alex turned to Julius, who was holding the detonator remote in his hand, the detonator that would blow Jack up. He pleaded, arms and shoulders straining at the ties, and his face was wet. Was he crying? He didn’t know anymore. Nothing made sense now. Julius pressed his face against Alex’s, close enough so he could feel Julius’s breath on his cheek, and Alex could feel the burn scars on his skin. The clone was laughing, a hand tangled in Alex’s hair.

The world was blurred, all except for the TV screen, the wretched version of himself next to him, and the remote. A thumb jabbed down at the red button, and it was like a part of himself had exploded alongside Jack. Ripped to shreds. Just like that, the woman who had fixed his collars on the first day of school was reduced to no more than ashes.

Alex’s restraints broke, and in that moment he sprung upwards from the bed. Heaving out a shaky breath, he was distantly aware of someone speaking to him, but it was blocked by the ringing of his ears. Hot tears trickled down his face, to the point of blurring his vision. He gasped, clawing at his chest to rip the stupid heart monitor cords off, but grabbed nothing except for a handful of shirt. He was not wearing a shirt. Razim had stripped him down only to his underwear.

“-ex? Alex? Can you hear me?” A blurry figure was in front of him, one knee on the bed. Concern was written all over his face, his hands hovering awkwardly as if considering whether to reach out or not. Alex faintly registered black hair cropped to military standards and a Liverpudlian accent.

His chest felt tight, and despite breathing fast no air seemed to get into his lungs. His nose was clogged from the tears. He couldn’t see very well, the image of a burning car was seared to his vision. Every blink and the explosion seemed to happen over and over again. Unthinking, Alex grasped a hand onto Ben’s left shoulder, gripping it rather hard. Ben’s eyes widened in surprise at the action.

“Ben.” Alex wheezed in between hiccups and gasps. “Ben.” He said a second time as a confirmation.

“Yes, it’s Ben.” Ben replied hurriedly. “It’s me. You’re in my flat. You’re safe. Can you breathe for me, Alex? Inhale for four seconds, hold for seven and breathe out for eight.” Ben gently guided Alex’s hand from his shoulder to his chest. Alex could feel the beating of the man’s heart, and he focused on the feeling while zoning everything else out. Ben breathed with his whole body, and Alex tried his best to follow suit.

For a while, there was only Alex’s ragged breathing, but the pace had been reduced to a calmer one. He wheezed and coughed, aware that his throat was very dry. He had stopped crying, the tears drying his face. Yet he did not move his hand to wipe them away.

“What are three things you can see in this room?” Ben asked softly. Alex squinted around the dimly lit room. The sky outside was dark, suggesting that he had slept for a few hours. The only light source in the room was the light pouring in from the hallway.

“I see…” Alex said, his voice raspy. “A pillow on the floor.” No doubt kicked by him during the nightmare. “A fan in the corner.” Ben nodded reassuringly, waiting for him to continue.

“And a picture of you and Wolf.” Alex swallowed, feeling a bit clearer in the head. Hanging on the wall nearby was a framed photograph of the two men. Wolf was the sturdier, taller soldier. The wind was blowing their hair as they grinned, uncaring and at ease. Even SAS soldiers seemed to have more freedom than Alex. He let go of the grip on Ben’s shirt and let his hand drop to his side.

Some of his joints ached, but not to a concerning degree. The wound on his leg felt the same as before. Alex sat on the bed, sweating mildly as he looked anywhere else but Ben. The noises of the standing fan was the only thing that filled the silence.

“Do you want to… talk about it?” Ben said tentatively. Alex almost winced at the dreaded question. Ben sounded oddly like the therapist MI6 hired for him a while back, only more sincere.

Alex took a deep breath. “I watched my best friend die.” Tears welled up in his eyes, but he was not going to cry a second time. “It was during a mission. I just… I watched her die and I couldn’t do anything about it.” He hastily wiped the springing tears away. Ben had already seen his weakest moments, no reason to add more to the list.

“I’m so sorry.” Ben muttered, face tight.

“I see them whenever I close my eyes, Ben.” Alex continued tiredly, the words seemingly tumbling out of his mouth. “Not just one. There are others. Sleeping just isn’t an option anymore.”

“All from your past missions?” Ben asked quietly. Alex nodded, and he heard the man inhaling sharply. Ben stood up suddenly. His eyebrows were drawn and there was something in his eyes. For a split second, Alex thought he was angry at him, but his brain quickly realized that there was no reason to do so. Was Ben angry for him? Why? It isn’t going to change anything. “I need to head out. I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” Alex asked against his will, sounding more panicked than he realized.

“MI6. I just want to have a word with Mrs. Jones. I promise I’ll be back soon.” Ben walked to the door, pausing. He seemed reluctant, but at the same time adamant. “I made some noodles, they’re in the fridge.” Then he walked out into the hallway. Not a moment later, Alex heard the front door opening, then he was alone.

Alex turned the fan off and limped to the living room, flopping down on the couch. He curled himself up, careful not to touch the bandages, and spent the next hour staring at the coffee table.

Chapter Text

Furious was not the word for it. Ben Daniels thought no word in the world could describe the feeling he got when Alex, tears streaking down his face, clung onto Ben’s chest like Ben would die if he let go. That was the last straw for him.

Ben walked towards the Royal & General Bank, pushing past bystanders as he passed. It was late at night when he left his apartment. It was fast approaching spring, the weather not as cool as usual, but he still shivered underneath his jacket. The walk from his home to the bank was long enough to clear his head, but despite that Ben could not get the image out of his mind. From his fairly short time of knowing Alex, he’d say the kid was level-headed. Determined, clever and capable, but Alex did not act like a kid. The way he fought to the way he talked distanced him from most teenagers. Ben had gathered that much from their interactions during Snakehead.

As Ben approached the front entrance, he stopped himself. MI6 stopped using the front entrance months ago, after Alex had been shot and almost killed. Ben knew because he was in Baghdad with Wolf when the man mentioned it offhandedly during a conversation. It was the first time in months that Ben had heard of the teenager back in Brecon Beacons, so he was surprised. Wolf himself did not know much about the ordeal, but he helped the man with the get-well-soon card. 

There was one thing Ben knew for certain. The kid he met during Snakehead was different from the kid who fainted on his doorstep yesterday. Something had changed.

The first time Ben asked was after Alex had been rescued from that organ farm. Hushed questions over the phone in the hallway back at the Australian military base. Mrs. Jones almost avoided his questions entirely, and he had kept on pressing afterwards but each answer he got was more diluted than the last. Wolf didn’t seem to have a clue, Alan Blunt was off-limits, and Smithers just stared at him with this sad look after he asked. Ben began to have his doubts, and these only amplified after what happened moments ago.

Alex wasn’t an official agent. There were no files in their databases mentioning him. He didn’t get paid, despite going on dangerous missions for MI6. Something happened during his last mission, because no school-aged boy should be this messed up.

Ben needed to talk to Mrs. Jones.

He walked over to the back entrance, trying to keep his face neutral. His fists clenched and unclenched. His legs carried him to the stairs, even though his mind was elsewhere. He walked, pushing past agents, heading to the room despite voices calling out to him. He opened the door, and there was Mrs. Jones, sitting at her desk.

“Agent.” She nodded. Her dark suit looked as plain as ever and her face still the same as it ever was, but she must have noticed the look on Ben’s face. She sat up a bit straighter. “What can I do for you?” She looked to be in the middle of arranging some paperwork.

“It’s about Alex Rider.” Ben said curtly.

Mrs. Jones blinked. Her eyes narrowed just a bit. “Yes, Alex. What about him?”

“If you’re wondering, Alex is with me. He has an injury to the leg and seems emotionally scarred after whatever mission you last sent him on.” Ben took a step closer but quickly acknowledged that there were cameras in the office. “I’d like an explanation.” He couldn’t keep the accusation out of his tone. His shoulders were tensing hard, but he kept the muscles on his face neutral.

“You found Alex? That’s great news.” Mrs. Jones replied, as pleasant as casual conversation over afternoon tea. She looked relieved, clasping her hands together. “Our people lost contact a few days ago. It’s crucial that we managed to find him in time-”

“A few days ago? Did you bother looking for him at all?” Ben said, scowling. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Mrs. Jones stared at him, slightly surprised at the change in demeanor. “I personally sent a search team.” She leaned backwards, hands joined on the table. Her face gave nothing away. “I decided to send him on this simple assignment because Alex assured me he was fine after his last mission.”

“Fine?” Ben snapped, his voice rising. “Have you seen him? What exactly happened during this last mission, Mrs. Jones?”

Mrs. Jones normally was much more expressive than Blunt. But after she had taken the man’s position, it was like she had changed. Ben found himself questioning her decisions more often. Perhaps the job itself was cursed. One Deputy after the next found their humanity seemingly slipping away from them. He had hoped Jones would fare better, but maybe he was wrong.

“I’m afraid it’s classified, Agent Daniels.” Mrs. Jones replied, a line she said practically every day.

“How is it classified if he’s not an official agent?” He responded sourly. Mrs. Jones opened and closed her mouth, clearly caught off guard. As she went quiet, Ben took a deep breath, soothing his nerves. His hands shook slightly. “Just tell me. Please.”

Mrs. Jones looked like she was about to say something else, but thought against it. “It was… originally not my idea. Blunt thought… Well, I don’t know what the man thought.” There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. It seemed like she hated him as much as Ben did. “I’ve always been against the idea of using a child spy in the first place.”

“Yet here we are.” Ben muttered darkly.

“Blunt thought this mission was important enough to send a fake sniper to Alex’s school, then used that as a ruse to get the boy to Cairo.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms.

“He did what.” Ben said, staring blankly. “He- you did something to stop him, right?”

Jones did not respond, but she held Ben’s gaze. As if she knew what she did, but she wasn’t strong enough to admit it. She absolutely could have stopped it, could have stopped Alex from going, but she didn’t. She let it happen, and those things happened to Alex because of her ignorance. Ben physically bit his tongue to hold himself down.

Jones continued, as if oblivious to Ben’s emotions. Her voice was strained. “Alex was supposed to go undercover at a boarding school. Smithers and Jack Starbright, his housekeeper, came with him. After a while, we lost contact, and truthfully I don’t fully know what happened in Cairo either. According to Egyptian authorities, a member of Scorpia was there-”

“Sorry, Scorpia?” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it left fingernail marks. SCORPIA, also known as Sabotage, Corruption, Intelligence and Assassination. An organization not to be meddled with, whose infamy and lethality were well known by every agency in the world. Whose assassins were so deadly that at least every agent has heard about them. Yassen Gregorovich. Ben had seen these names being mentioned while searching for Alex’s files. If Alex had involvement with them, then it seemed the boy was deeper in the mud than he thought. Ben suppressed another shaky sigh.

“Yes. Alex was the one who took them down.” Mrs. Jones confirmed. Ben couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the kid. It cheered him up a bit. Then came a flood of questions regarding how and why, but he saved that for later.

“The Scorpia member was working with Julius Grief, a psychopathic individual.” She continued, and Ben’s brief happiness dissipated. “You are aware of Alex’s second mission, correct?”

Indeed Ben was. Wolf had immediately told his SAS team the moment he got back. About how Alex was more than he seemed, the school in the Alps, how the boy crashed a snowmobile into a moving helicopter. He knew of Doctor Grief, the crazy principal of Point Blanc who created sixteen biological clones of himself. He didn’t recall a Julius Grief. Unsurprisingly the thought of human cloning didn’t humor him much, since alongside it was the realization that someone from Alex’s past had caught up to him. Ben nodded, refraining himself from speaking.

“As part of Hugo Grief’s short-lived plan of world domination, Julius was cosmetically altered to look like Alex. He and the Scorpia member captured Alex and Jack Starbright, and it was then that we lost contact. We… I have no idea what happened during that time.” Mrs. Jones pursed her lips. Her eyes darkened. “Ms. Starbright had been killed when we rescued him.”

“By that you mean because of your negligence, Alex had to watch someone he loves die in front of him.” Ben’s blood boiled. Jones’s words made it sound so simple. She had no idea what it felt like when Alex, beaten and exhausted, confessed to Ben in hushed whispers. Clinging onto his shirt so tight it hurt. Dark circles under his eyes from refusing to sleep because of nightmares. All because of Mrs. Jones’s lack off gut to stand up to Alan fucking Blunt. Ben’s hands shook from barely concealed anger. “Probably more than one time. And you did nothing to stop it.”

“What could I have possibly done?” Mrs. Jones replied, face tight, sitting as stiff as a statue. “I didn’t…”

“Maybe don’t force a kid into service?” Ben’s voice raised. He breathed heavily, looking at Mrs. Jones. For the first time during this conversation, the Head of Special Operations did not meet his eyes.

“If it wasn’t for Alex, the world as we know it would’ve ended already! You do not know the extent of what he did.” She replied, barely composed herself. Jones looked upset despite the words she was speaking. “He stopped genocides, drug trades, wars, and stood head to head with the most dangerous criminal organization in the world.” Her voice shook. “It’s for the greater good. One life against millions.”

It was unfair. So unfair. Disregarding everything, he took steps forward and stopped right in front of Jones’s desk. “Are you even listening to yourself?” He yelled, clenching his fists hard enough to hurt. “What good is sacrificing a teenager? He shouldn’t even be here! He should be in school, worrying about grades and friends, instead of-” Ben wanted to claw his hair out. “God, Jones, he’s just a kid.” A kid with a look in his eyes that Ben had only seen in soldiers of war. Usually those with severe mental trauma.

Mrs. Jones stood up so fast her chair skidded on the floor. It echoed terribly in the office. “Tell me, agent, what other choice do we have?” It was the first time Ben heard her raise her voice. “I can’t undo what’s been done!”

“Then you shouldn’t have done it in the first place!” Ben truly, utterly, raised his voice at Mrs. Jones. There was a moment of silence where none of them said anything. They stood, breathing heavily, Ben looking directly into Jones while she stared at her table. As his hands steadied, he closed his eyes to physically distance himself from the situation. Growing up, he rarely ever got angry. Even in SAS, when he trudged through broken buildings and saw the harsh reality of warfare, the anger never got as bad as this. He did scream into the Head of MI6’s face.

“I wish it didn’t have to turn out this way.” Mrs. Jones broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too.” Ben said.

“Why do you care so much?”

The thought never occurred to Ben. Was it when Wolf told him about how the boy went distances to rescue the other teenagers at Point Blanc? Was it when he helped Wolf with the card when Alex was in the hospital? Or was it when his first thought after rescuing Alex from the human farm was to pull him into a hug? He never asked himself why he cared. He just cared, because caring did not require an explanation.

When Alex appeared, wet and injured at the door of his apartment, his first thought was ‘Thank god he arrived at my doorstep.’ Perhaps that question does not have an answer right now, so Ben settled with, “If nobody is going to care for him, then I will.”

Mrs. Jones didn’t react to that answer, but after a few minutes, she sat back down and began adjusting the papers on her desk that had been tussled around during their yelling. Ben took a few steps back, calming down somewhat. “Alex is staying with you, correct?” She asked neutrally.

“Yes.” Ben said.

“If you want, we can arrange for him to-”

“He is staying with me.” Ben replied firmly, no room for negotiations. After what he heard, MI6 will not take Alex away again. “Does Alex have any other guardians beside the bank?”

“There is the Pleasures family in America. But they’re not relatives, so the process might take some time.” Mrs. Jones said. “Do you want to be his guardian, Agent Daniels?”

The question caught Ben off guard. “What? I-” He sputtered. “...I don’t know. I think he should be the one to decide.”

Mrs. Jones nodded, writing something down on one of the papers. “In the meantime, he’ll be living with you until his injuries heal.” She handed him some papers. “Bring this to the front desk, and you’ll be done.”

Ben stared blankly at the documents in her hands for a bit, then took it, thanked her and left the office. As he exited the bank, tension melted away from his shoulders. He took a breath of mildly polluted London air and walked home faster than necessary. His lips were chapped, his palms hurt from clenching, and his mind was filled with answered and unanswered questions when he unlocked the front door. Alex was sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen counter, picking at his half-eaten noodles. His hair was unbrushed and messy, his eyes red. The teenager looked more like a kid in Ben’s t-shirt. Alex perked up when Ben approached.

“Alex, can I hug you?” Ben asked abruptly.

“...What?” Alex looked confused.

“Can I hug you?”

“Yes…?” Ben pulled the teenager into a huge embrace as he barely finished answering. The action mimicked what he did during their mission together. Alex was warmer and taller than the last time the two hugged. His head reached Ben’s neck now. He immediately tensed, but reluctantly relaxed into the hug. Alex was grimy, but Ben didn’t care, because at the end of the day, he figured he did really care for the kid. And probably will continue to do so.

Chapter Text

After Ben had explained everything, they decided to stay up all night to watch TV. Ben valued his sleep, but he was also no stranger to an all-nighter, and after the events that transpired neither of them wanted to lay down again. Alex had sat next to him on the sofa, quietly finishing the stale noodles as they watched a rerun of Law & Order.

Several episodes in, Alex turned to him abruptly. “What’s next?”

“Hm?” Ben, who had begun to doze off slightly, blinked awake.

“I mean,” Alex said, picking the helm of his shirt. His voice was quiet, head turned downward. The lights were all off in the flat, except for the soft glow of the TV. “Now that I’m staying with you.”

Ben thought for a second. The emotions from earlier had worn off, replaced by a degree of weariness. He knew Alex could see how tired he was, but for whatever reason, Ben still wouldn’t go to sleep. Maybe he knew Alex wouldn’t go to sleep again and didn’t like leaving the teenager awake and alone, maybe not. “I suppose we could go shopping.” He hummed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex opened his mouth, and then closed it. Ben couldn’t make out his expression in the dark, but he could feel the couch shifting as Alex leaned on it again. “Okay.”

Ben turned his focus to the TV once more. The silence was pleasant. He relaxed into the sofa, mindful that his joints were less tense than before. He thought briefly about the conversation with Mrs. Jones, but his brain was too sluggish to analyze it again. Before Ben could make a mental shopping list, a big yawn interrupted him. Being awake for days has never been a problem, but those were usually during missions. He figured it had something to do with watching TV in the comfort of his own home, in the presence of a kid he immensely respected. The most dangerous kid in the world. The newfound ease of the scene as opposed to high-stake missions did wonders to Ben’s circadian rhythm.

“You can just sleep, you know.” Alex said, barely loud enough over the TV. “You don’t have to stay awake. For me.”

“You sure?” Ben asked hesitatingly. Alex nodded.

Ben stood up and made his way to the bedroom. Instead of laying down, he grabbed his pillows and blanket and returned to the living room. Laying down carefully with his head towards Alex, he draped the blanket over his body. He had carried extra pillows just in case Alex wanted to sleep, even though it was unlikely. The couch wasn’t big, his feet hung slightly over the arms while his head was a few centimeters away from the teenager’s leg. Ben tried to be as attentive to Alex’s space as possible. In the dark, he could feel Alex staring at him.

Ben’s eyelids drooped. “Goodnight, Alex.” He could hear the TV’s volume being lowered.

“Night, Ben.”

----------

Ben was struck with the realization that starting from now, he would have to worry about things he never had to before. Like cooking doubles, the increase in water bills, and shopping for clothes. And then rearranging his drawers to fit the new clothes, but that’s a problem for later.

They found a mall that offered almost everything on Ben’s list. The place was big with a large range, and the stores were neither cheap nor expensive. Their first stop was at Primark, since clothes had been one of the top things on the list. Ben stood, staring at a shirt that had the slogan “Born to Stand Out” printed hot pink in the middle as he waited for Alex to pick out some pants. Now he knew where Wolf shopped for t-shirts.

As he turned to look for more slogans, his eye caught something across the hall. A shoe shop. His memory flashed to Alex’s torn, mud-soaked sneakers the other night. Then a flash to earlier this morning, when Ben had to convince him to wear another pair. He glanced down and wrote “shoes” on his crumpled note, then crossed it out as soon as he finished writing and walked over to the shoe shop.

He returned with a new pair of red sneakers, just in time to see Alex appeared with an armful of plain clothing. Simple colors, no patterns.

“Are you finished?” Ben gestured to the single-colored t-shirts. “Do you need… uh,” He thought about the articles he read while eating breakfast this morning. “Pajamas?” He knew next to nothing about caring for a kid, let alone a teenager, simply because it hadn’t crossed his mind. His profession made it so that having kids was dangerous, but life has a strange way with things. Yesterday was a complete shot in the dark, and Ben didn’t know if Alex knew he had no idea what he was doing. He hid it pretty well since nightmares were a common thing when he was in the military, but when it came to shopping, Ben chose to rely solely on foster care articles on the internet. The chance of successfully winging this was extremely low.

“It’s alright, Ben.” Alex said, voice muffled by the mask he wore to hide the nose bruise. It was healing, same with the leg, but still very noticeable. He walked with a slight limp but assured Ben he was fine. Besides, clothes and toiletries were essential since Alex didn’t have anything when he got here.

“I got these for you.” Ben said, slightly nervous as he presented the shoes. “I don’t know if they fit though.”

Alex placed the pile of clothes onto the bench and kicked off his current shoes, before carefully putting them on. They seemed to fit. Ben let out a small sigh of relief since he did have to make a rough estimation of Alex’s shoe size earlier. The teenager sat, staring at his new sneakers for a bit too long.

“Thank you.” Alex finally said.

“Hey, it’s fine. I was beginning to worry that you might not like red.” Ben smiled, bending to pick up the other shoes. As they walked to the counter, Ben crossed “clothes” out from his note.

Their next destination in the mall was a Tesco. Tescos in malls weren’t as big as actual Tesco stores, but Ben liked malls because a mall is basically a building jam-packed with different mega corporations competing for financial gains. Ben went here for clothes and shampoos, but for food he preferred the farmers market. Going to a mall for groceries is upsetting.

They wandered idly down the aisles, Ben pushing a shopping cart with the bag that contained Alex’s clothes, among other things that needed restocking in his flat. They eventually reached an aisle that was full of soaps, the scent immediately assaulting his nose. Ben was personally very strict with his hygiene, owning several face wash, different kinds of shampoos and an unnecessary amount of conditioner, but during research, he learned that it would be best if Alex had his own soaps and shampoos. Then of course, toothbrush, toothpaste and towels.

“You can pick whatever you like.” He told Alex, then glanced down at the note. “But the recommended amounts are, uh, four bath towels and four hand towels. You can get more if you want to.” Ben said sheepishly.

“Okay.” Alex replied. He had a look that meant he was analyzing Ben, but didn’t say anything more.

The cart gradually filled up, until the bottom was covered in towels, laundry detergents and a new bar of soap. It has been a while since the cart was filled like this, so Ben pushed it with more force than he was used to. Believe it or not, MI6’s paycheck was decent enough, but he rarely spent it on a shopping spree. The money was mostly funded to all the different bank accounts he has, then electricity bills to the decoy apartments, then weapons. Now with a teenager in tow, Ben was faced with the realization that he probably had to do all the financial math again, since his personal bank account would be messed up after this. He suppressed a sigh.

As they walked out of the Tesco with new bags in hand, Ben crossed out several things on his note, completing the shopping list. It was only 10 AM, so the trip took about an hour and a half.

“It’s far too early to get lunch, isn’t it?” He commented as they began walking in a random direction. He glanced at passing shops, wondering if they should get anything more. Ben absent-mindedly remembered that Alex didn’t have a phone, and made a mental note to give the teen one of his burners later. When he turned around, Alex was a distance away, staring at one of those boards that had a map of the mall, with all the shops labeled.

“There’s an ice cream place.” Alex said as Ben walked over, pointing at a little corner on the chart.

“Great idea. Let’s go for ice cream then.” Ben said, even though it wasn’t one of his cheat days. But the idea of a “cheat day” is practically nonsense anyway, so who was Ben to refuse some delicious ice cream.

The ice cream shop was on floor three, a nice but quaint one, outshined by all the major companies across from it. It wasn’t dingy, but had a homely feeling. The shop had a big window with an average view, all you could see were other buildings since they were in the heart of London. There weren’t a lot of customers, so finding a table was easy. Ben approached the man at the counter to give him their orders: plain vanilla for Alex and mint chocolate chip for Ben. He leaned on the counter while counting the change, hearing the rumbling hum of the ice cream machine and the chatter of other customers around him.

“S’that your brother?” The cashier tipped his head towards their table, handing Ben a receipt. He looked to be in his mid 40s and was wearing a ridiculous striped uniform that matched the shop’s theme. Whatever the theme was.

“Oh.” Ben blinked, looking back at Alex. “Right. Uhm, no, not exactly.”

“Right,” The man chuckled. His eyes glinted with probably another guess, which was also most likely wrong. “Makes sense. If he was your brother, you would’ve known not to put ‘em in those red shoes.” He laughed, wheezing from his chest and seemingly slapping his knee. Whatever this man thought small talk was, this was not it. Ben couldn’t help but be a bit self-conscious about it, shifting his weight to the other foot awkwardly.

“How do I know what’s good and not then?” Ben said.

The ice cream man stopped smiling. He leaned forward on the counter. “If you really care about ‘em, you would know.”

Ben opened and closed his mouth. At that moment, another employee came up and handed him the ice cream, forcing him to break eye contact with the man. He received the tray, then wordlessly walked back to their table. He was deep in thought as the two of them ate ice cream, and if Alex had noticed the look on Ben’s face, he didn’t say anything.

“Do you know which country has the best ice cream?” Alex suddenly said, breaking the silence. What remained of the vanilla ice cream had melted into a puddle in his cup, and he was stirring it around with his spoon.

“I don’t know.” Ben replied.

“Australia.” Alex said. “You would think it’s Italy, but it’s not. The ice creams in Australia are very good.” The seats they picked were in a corner next to the large window, and Alex had kept one hand on the side of his face to shield the nose bruise. “I didn’t have any the last time I was there. It was before that, during a vacation.”

“Agreed. England’s cold, so our main focus wouldn’t be ice cream.” Ben shrugged, eating the last of his dessert.

“Hey Ben, do you think we could go back to my old house sometime?” Alex asked quietly, looking straight at him. “Some of the… some of my old stuff is still there.” There was a hint of uncertainty in the teenager’s voice.

“Yeah.” Ben answered way too fast. “Yes. Is it urgent? We could go now-”

“They’re going to cut the electricity bills by the end of this week. We don’t have to go now.” Alex said, looking everywhere but Ben. “Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ben pushed his empty cup away and turned to Alex. “We can go whenever you want.”

Alex looked, then nodded. Then he sipped the remaining vanilla ice cream liquid in silence.

During the car ride back to his flat, Ben kept remembering the words the ice cream man said to him. If you really care about ‘em, you would know. There were a million questions he wanted to go back and ask that man, like “how do I know if I know”, or “should I ask him about his shoe preferences next time”, but that would go against the man’s advice. Somehow, a man he didn’t even know the name of in an ice cream shop managed to bamboozle Ben, an ex-military turned secret service, but as crazy as it was, ultimately he knew more about kids than Ben. And there was only one way to find out if that advice was good or not.

“Hey, Ben.” Alex, who was in the passenger seat, said. “Thanks.”

“Of course. What do you want for lunch?”