Welcome to the Scrapheap

6.

Alex didn't remember being transferred to St Dominic's. Probably he'd been sedated or something for the flight. In any case, MI6 had clearly handled the paperwork quickly. He wondered briefly whether that was Fox's doing.

All he knew was he opened his eyes to find his neck brace gone, a different colour ceiling, and the person he'd been aching to see sitting in the corner of a new hospital room.

"Oh my god, Alex," Jack cried, rushing to kneel by his side when she saw him twitch awake. Dark circles rimmed reddish eyes, and he knew she'd been crying. Already tears were welling back up, and he felt unbidden water prick his too.

He blinked, wanting badly to reach up and touch her face to prove to himself that this was real.

"I thought I'd lost you so many times these past few weeks. They wouldn't let me see you, Alex," she said breathlessly.

"I wanted you too," he said quietly.

She smiled through the tears, her eyes scrunching up in the way so familiar to him. "I'm so sorry this happened, love. I'm so sorry. But we'll get through it, together. I promise. I'm here now."

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Eagle had stood by his promise. The second Jack left to go home after he'd convinced her that he'd be just fine on his own for the afternoon, all of K-Unit crashed into Alex's room after significant pleading to the nurses.

Alex looked a little startled to see all four soldiers walking through the door.

Wolf gave him an apologetic grin as he entered.

"Hey, kid. They've all been desperate to see you. Eagle's insufferable about it."

Alex didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly in amusement.

Eagle waved energetically, beaming.

"It's good to see you," Snake said, smiling warmly. "Awake, that is."

"Good to see you too," he responded genuinely, finding his mood actually buoyed by K-Unit's affection, despite the feelings of hopelessness and fear he was ignoring incessantly eating away at him from the inside. It would be a welcome distraction for now. He needed it.

"Stop, you'll make me blush," Wolf mock protested, relieved to see that Alex was in apparently high spirits. Eagle cuffed his ear.

"Alright, you've seen him, now buzz off and leave the poor lad alone for some rest!" A nurse was standing in the doorway, chuckling at the display. Alex was pleasantly surprised to see it was Diana Meacher, who he'd met the last time he'd been in St Dominic's after being shot by a sniper. At the time he thought it was as bad as he might be hurt in the field. He wished that he had never been proven wrong.

Before that line of thinking could go any further (he was stubbornly refusing to adknowledge any more thoughts about his current situation), he grinned at Nurse Meacher. "No, it's alright. I want them to stay."

She sighed. "I suppose. But if I suspect you're bothering him..."

"We'll behave, ma'am," Eagle said innocently. Wolf cuffed his ear.

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The day passed sluggishly.

He'd listened to K-Unit's banter for a while, feeling something tight and uncomfortable relax inside a little. Someone turned on the TV for him and he flipped through the channels before settling on National Geographic for some background noise. Not much to trigger anything there; combat scenes and violence had an unfortunate habit of turning up on news or history channels, and nature helped relax him. He settled quickly into a calm, cheerful front for all the nurses and doctors that walked in to move him around and check his (many) IVs and monitors throughout the day.

The truth was, he was absolutely terrified to think about what was coming next.

MI6.

It was obvious that he would need a debrief. It was less obvious why they hadn't done it already. Last stay at St Dominic's, Mrs Jones had been there the minute he got out of surgery. Perhaps they were afraid to touch him. It certainly seemed that they were starting to avoid him a little more; his last couple of assignments had been totally uneventful for once, simple intelligence work that went without a hitch. He had felt his heavy mental scars fading a little without constant madmen trying to kill him at every turn, even without making any sort of real attempt to fix himself.

Then kidnappers had slowly broken him, taken his leg and messed up his arm, and MI6 were going to make him relive it all then drop-kick him back into normal life.

Fat chance of that working for him. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his own leg. That was the only reason he hadn't broken down already: telling himself that whatever was happening, just wasn't.

But it didn't matter what he thought about his ability to just go back. There was no other direction for him. Not now.

God, he was pathetic. He should just get it over with already. He'd seen death. He'd caused death. How was this, the thing freeing him from a life of constant danger, any worse than what he'd faced so far?

He'd used the logic that he needed to be ready. He would never be ready. Just get it over with. He was alone, nobody could see him shatter, and he was fully capable of picking up the shards, right? He'd had to do it before.

Alex gripped the remote the nurses had given him that would move the bed so he could sit up.

He pushed the up button with his good arm (well, slightly less broken arm) and heard the faint whirr of a motor, and then the sensation of the world shifting. Dizziness exploded behind his eyes, and he blinked uncomfortably, waiting for it to clear.

So far, he'd managed to keep his eyes firmly above his leg. He did the same thing almost on instinct.

His chest squeezed with sudden anxiety in anticipation of the mental pain he expected would come. Already his thoughts were attempting to spiral again, and he squashed them down automatically, feeling his hand start to tremble with the effort.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then looked down.

There it was. Wrapped neatly in crisp dressings, his leg finished abruptly below the knee in a smooth, rounded stump.

He expected to feel an onslaught of painful memories, shock, sadness, at least something.

Instead he only felt hollowness, and the quiet, frightening settling of his new reality.

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So sorry for the late one lads.

Anyway, how are there this many of you looking at my ramblings? No, really, I'm baffled. EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

Long chapter this time. 1000+ words! Yikes. I don't know when to stop, do I.

Would appreciate a comment or a vote! Feedback is important to me thanks

Oh, and it's only going to go downhill for the bloke from here. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: really?

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