Journey - REVISED EDITION

Consequences

The man suddenly cursed, and the sound of a chair scraping back echoed in the room. "I was supposed to let Sargent Wilson know when you woke up. He has some questions. You chill about that?"

Alex put his thumb and forefinger together, the diver's symbol for fine.

Fox nodded, and headed toward the door, but although Alex waited, he never heard it close."I'm glad you pulled through, Alex. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't."

The door clicked closed.

(LINEBREAK)

Sargent Wilson walked confidently into the teen's room, with the knowledge that this was going to be a very one-sided conversation. The boy's lung had been clipped by the bullet and the oxygen mask was very critical.

"Hello, lad." He started.

Alex's deep brown eyes stared back at him, revealing no emotion. His face looked pinched though, and he knew it was because of the lack of painkillers.

"Sorry about the pain. Wasn't my idea." He continued.

Once again, the boy just blinked. He looked exhausted. Better keep this quick.

"Look. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what happened. It's unbelievable." He said breathlessly, still having a hard time believing that a boy had actually been shot in Brecon Beacons. He swallowed, trying to stay on topic. "Mrs. Jones has found a temporary safe-house for you and your unit to live in, while Brecon Beacons undergoes some security changes. Most of K-Unit is already there, and you'll be moved tomorrow. This isn't bloody right." He let out a harsh breath, his hands gripping the bedpost. "You should be at school, studying for your GCSE's, not getting targeted by fully-trained assassins at a military training camp." He struggled to rein in his anger. "You're a very lucky chap, you know. The doctors told me you almost died on the operation table. You remind me a lot of your father." His anger drained away, his mind lost in memories of another blonde-haired man, one who'd laughed and loved and died. "You both have that same luck. The Rider luck. That's what he called it. Don't ever lose it."

And with that, he left.

(LINEBREAK)

The next morning, things had changed. For one, Alex realized he was no longer wearing the simple hospital dress. Someone had changed him into the standard SAS garb for wounded soldiers: soft sweatpants and sweatshirt with the emblem stitched on the front and the motto printed on the back, and a beret was perched on the desk beside him, along with a wet glass of water. He drank the water, not at all disturbed that someone had undressed him. He'd long since lost any sort of dignity.

The door opened, and one of the medics walked in, clipboard in hand.

"Good morning, Cub. I'm just going to put you out, so that the transportation won't cause anymore unneeded pain. Sound good?" He asked, good-naturally.

"Shoot me up." It was only when the medic raised his eyebrow that Alex realized what exactly he'd said.