Welcome to the Scrapheap

3.

AN at end of chapter

Matching faces of quiet shock looked back at the doctor.

He was used to delivering bad news, of course he was, but the whole situation was bizarre and so different for him.

Why was the child so severely wounded, with injuries worse than most frontline army men? Why was he in a military hospital? Brought in by a unit of SAS soldiers, the only ones concerned for his health?

The man with the short ginger hair, Fox, he gathered, was the first to speak after a long pause as they digested the information. "You mean he lost the leg? What happened?"

The doctor nodded. "It was so badly damaged that even if he had been able to keep it, it would have been unusable, and likely cause him constant pain. The open fracture had been infected, and would have killed him anyway. This was the best we could do for him."

"Christ. I knew it was bad when we found him, but losing his leg?" He thought the tall one was talking more to the others, but then he looked at him with sad eyes. "How much did he lose?"

"A few inches below the knee. He was lucky in a way. He'll at least be suitable for a prosthetic." He took a breath. "It's going to be a long recovery for him, I'm afraid. A very long one. For one thing, we believe that he's gone into a coma- he sustained head trauma at some point and the injuries were more than enough to put his body into shock. We don't know how long it will last. After that, he has multiple broken bones that will need to heal, nerve damage, possible brain damage, and of course his leg. I know some specialists that could help with his recovery, but it's not going to be easy."

"Shit." The man who had been reading when he entered leaned back in his chair. Then, without a moment's hesitation,

"Can we see him?"

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Alex had never been more afraid when he first came to the surface.

That was what he called it. Most of the time he was drifting in blackness. No real sense of time passing, just a knowledge that it should be. He couldn't hear, feel, see, speak, think, just dimly aware as he hung in the space between thoughts. But sometimes, rarely, he would come close to being awake. Never really very close at all. But he could hear voices, and think more lucidly, and that was terrifying for him at first.

He had assumed he had died.

So when he heard Wolf's gruff tones coming from somewhere that felt very far away, he had no idea what was happening.

Then, after a little while, he began to piece together some things.

He had been rescued. Something completely unexpected, but why else would K-Unit be talking to him?

He had nearly died, but hadn't. The sounds of hospital machines were all too familiar.

He was in a coma. He didn't figure this out for quite a while, but it made things clearer.

He didn't know what was wrong with him, and when he was going to wake up. He tried at first, God, he had tried so hard. He wanted to break down and cry after the first dozen attempts ended with nothing but bitter failure. But the coma wouldn't let him do even that.

So for now, he could do nothing but wait.

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Waiting had become K-Unit's life. The routine was like clockwork by now.

The hospital had provided a room for them, after they realised that they could not bring themselves to leave Alex. His guardian wasn't allowed to visit, which was total nonsense, but he needed someone there, so they had to step up and fill that role.

One would sleep. One would stay in the room. One would be with Alex. One would get some fresh air, exercise, do something, anything.

Sometimes it would overlap or someone would skip, but they made certain that Alex's side was never empty.

It had been heartbreaking when they first walked in. One arm plastered and resting on a pillow, the other hidden in a brace. Wires and drips and tubes coming in and out of his frail frame. Half his face wrapped in bandages, an oxygen mask obscuring much of the rest. The skin that was visible was alternately as pale as the sheets under him, and stained purple with bruises.

And of course, a stump. Swathed in layers of clean, white dressings, but his leg ended abruptly after the knee, and that was something that the four would never forget.

Wolf's general solution to problems was the punch the shit out of it. Sure, he'd killed everyone he could find in that godforsaken place. But that wasn't enough to fix the broken boy in front of him.

Snake felt useless. He was a medic, sure, but field dressings and combat stitches had no place here. He had applied himself doggedly to learning everything he could about what care Cub was going to need, because the others turned to him for answers, and he wasn't about to admit to himself that he didn't have the slightest idea about how to help.

Eagle always tried to be upbeat. He was the positive one in the group, a rare but sorely needed trait in their line of work. But he had been deeply affected by what had happened to Cub, as much as he tried to push it down.

Ben didn't want to think about what was going to happen to Alex next. There was no way he could carry on doing his job. What would MI6 do with him? Could he live a normal life after this? He knew agents discharged for things like this. He knew what Alex could end up like.

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Sup! I have four readers! I don't know who you are, but hey! I can start begging for reviews now!

(not a joke. give me the words of judgement i implore you)

Warnings: idk, tiny amount of swearing and violence? I'm not sure why you need warnings, if you're here then you've read AR and there is WORSE. Also I have no clue if there's any potential triggers. Please don't kill me if there is?

Disclaimer: my lawyers would be able to do this if I owned Alex Rider. The closest thing I have to a lawyer is a foster hamster who likes to nibble on human finger

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