You cannot distribute this story, print it for publication, put it on another web site, display this story, nor publish it anywhere without the express written consent and permission of the author. Verbal permission is not valid. You should read the introductory chapter for the full disclaimer. By reading this chapter, you acknowledge you have read the full disclaimer.

"Nicky, Nigel, I made one small but significant change in the plan. And I didn't tell anyone."

Nigel looked alarmed, even surprised. Spontaneity and deviation from a plan was not what the King, who was normally rigid and inflexible, was known for.

"There weren't live bullets in the gun. I replaced them with blanks," said the King, with a slight smile. "There was no cyanide in the blood packets either, and even if there were, it couldn't have worked nearly as fast as would have been required. Simply put, I lied to you."

Nicky ran towards Alex as quickly as he could. Putting his hand on Alex's chest, he felt breathing. He was sure of it. "He is alive!" Nicky was crying now, openly. The reaction was not lost on the King. He had many thoughts, but his son meant the world to him and that was all that was really important.

Nicky grabbed some towels from a closet in the nearby washroom and filled a bowl with water. He carefully removed Alex's shirt and started to clean off the splattered blood. Within a matter of seconds, he had wiped off much of the blood and realized there was a noticeable lack of bullet holes. There were some slight scorch marks on the flesh where the packets had discharged and released the blood. He also noticed some extremely thin wires and some metallic-looking packets which he removed and tossed aside. Had Nicky not been so focused on the task at hand, he would have taken a great deal of interest in them. However it was obvious that Alex was breathing, albeit slowly, yet he showed no sign of consciousness.

The King spoke, "Nicky, Alex is an amazing person, though you must know that already. I could not let someone like that die. That would be wrong. I can't rescind my ill-conceived plan, but with this change, both you and he can live. We'll just sneak him up when it's safe and he can go on with his life."

"But, Sire, why didn't you tell me?" inquired Nigel, clearly puzzled and a bit hurt. Nigel assumed the King would always tell him everything. That's how it always had been.

"The same reason I didn't tell Nicky. If you truly believed he was dying, all your reactions would be real. Nobody can question you and then say they didn't believe that Alex was shot to death. They saw it, you saw it, you acted as if it was true because you believed it was true. Had Nicky known it was a ruse, it wouldn't have appeared to be difficult to do such an evil act, and it was important that it appear Nicky was having a hard time doing this. There had to be no chance anyone would think this act was really the charade we created. When it played out, it was clear Nicky fought hard against what he did. We believe the correct phrase is plausible deniability."

"Will I see him ever again?" asked Nicky, who remained at Alex's side.

"That's up to you, him, and his parents. If he comes to London, you can see him if he wants it, but only up above. If you're invited, you may go to his country. I must admit, I want to forbid it, because I do not understand what draws you two together. I still think there is something wrong here, yet I cannot deny the truth of what I see. There is something more than friendship there. However much you may doubt it, I do understand that part because my own eyes see it."

Nicky didn't comment immediately. He began to feel self-conscious, though. That quickly turned to embarrassment, and then all of a sudden, he felt wrong somehow. It was an extraordinarily unpleasant feeling. He wasn't sure how to describe it, really. It was like his life, at least the part with Alex, had suddenly ended and he'd moved on. It was a shock, a slap in the face. He didn't like it, but it was so unusual he had to stop and think about it. "I'm not sure, father. It was like something was there -- I won't deny that -- but all of a sudden it's gone. He's still my friend, and I care about him, but that little magic spark seems to have died suddenly."

"The love of youth is often like that: fleeting, not fully real."

"No! Don't make light of it. It was real! I am certain it was, and I hope it will continue anew. It's just that something has changed, suddenly," explained Nicky, still confused. He got up and paced around. He found it odd that his feelings had changed. Maybe, he thought, it was a lingering effect of the drugs he was given.

"If you say so, Nicky," replied the King, not wanting to start an argument.

"Nigel, it's almost time to dispose of the body."

"Sire?" asked Nigel who was still digesting the interplay between the King and his son. "Why did we bring it here, then? This isn't the place."

"Well, we carried it here because I wished my son and Alex to have the chance to decide what they wanted to do. Now someone has to carry the body away to be cremated. After all, there are appearances to preserve. A body simply can't disappear from my chambers. We mustn't muck it up now after all this."

"I'll have it arranged" said Nigel, leaving. He had to speak to the guards and also to make sure the crematorium was ready for use as it was not always at the ready. Normally the tools and controls were kept locked up so it was necessary to have them ready for use. He was confident that he and the King could easily get Alex out, unnoticed. "I'll be back in about an hour. That will give you some time."

"Thank you, Nigel. I mean that," said the King as Nigel shut the door behind him. It was a rare moment of humanity for the King, one friend speaking to another.

Alex made a moaning sound. Nicky raced over to him, his momentary doubts forgotten, followed by the King who moved at a more leisurely pace. Alex made more noise. Clearly he was beginning to regain consciousness. He began to become restless, twitching. Then he began thrashing. Finally, he awoke. His eyes flipped open and he sat upright in an instant. "What? Where am I?" He took several deep breaths.

Realization dawned on Alex, his eyes focusing first on the King. "What the fuck is going on? We had a bargain! I did everything you asked. Everything." He paused for a moment before adding, "And why am I not wearing a shirt?"

"Calm down, Alex. Please. Everything is okay," said the King.

"I don't understand. I'm not dead. Nicky's not dead." Alex didn't quite register all this. He was almost ignoring Nicky for the moment. This fact was not lost on Nicky, which caused him to experience further self-doubt; he didn't realize that Alex was still recovering from the powerful sedative he'd taken to make it appear that he was dead. Nicky absently handed the blood-soaked shirt back to Alex, who began to put it on immediately.

"Allow me to explain, Alex."

"Yes, do that. I am just dying to find out what you've got to say," said Alex, using the pun intentionally.

The King explained everything. Even Nicky chipped in a few comments. Alex wasn't sure what to think. Although Alex got everything he wanted, now he had to deal with being alive and all the problems he was going to have in his own world because of it. He knew there were some MI6 agents who were going to be very upset, not to mention his parents. There were so many problems to face back home. Here there was just Nicky. Nicky! Yes, he remembered Nicky.

Thoughts raced through Alex's mind as to what he wanted. He couldn't decide. There were so many reasons to stay, and so many reasons to go. It seemed like a great deal of time had passed, though he knew it was just an instant. Finally, Alex replied. "Your Majesty, may I stay here?"

The question caught the King completely off-guard. Nicky was not expecting it either. The King certainly wasn't interested in Alex staying, but he deferred to his son's wishes. "That's going to be for Nicky to decide, but it presents a great many problems."

"What problems?" asked Nicky just before Alex was going to make the same inquiry.

"Alex's parents for one. Half of Scotland Yard is looking for Alex along with MI6, and when their scheme blows up in their faces, they'll probably have to invite over some people from the FBI or whatever agency has jurisdiction. There will be a scandal, a manhunt, lots of articles in the papers, and the need for you to stay hidden for years. Then, we'll have to explain his unexpected resurrection to our people; I have no idea how we'd manage that; that will be the most difficult aspect. We just staged this elaborate plan to kill him, and now he wishes to stay. Then there is the very difficult matter of what we do with both of you."

"Alex? What about Delos?" interjected Nicky, not because he cared about Delos, but because he wondered where she stood with Alex in relation to him. Before Alex was put in the position of answering that difficult question, the King interrupted.

"I have a suggestion," said the King. "Why don't you two take ten or twenty minutes alone together to sort this out? I'll return and then you can let me know what you both have decided."

The King withdrew into the hallway where he was immediately surrounded by guards demanding to know if everything was okay. The King hastily pulled the door shut before the guards thought to look inside. Although there was no way the guards could see through the foyer into the inner rooms, the King was taking no chances whatsoever. The guards thought it odd the King had suddenly taken to doing tasks for himself.

"Alright, Alex, we have to talk about this. We really do. We don't have much time and this is a huge decision. You have to tell me everything about you. Everything. It's like our whole lives are going to be determined by this moment. It's like trying to compress our whole lives into twenty minutes and then making a decision we have to live with forever. This isn't the best way to do this, I know. But I see no other alternative."

"Right. Like it's that easy to just open your heart to someone and tell them everything about you. Nicky, you've been with me enough now to know everything with me is an effort when it comes to opening up. I'm private, reserved, shy, reticent, and introverted. I can't change that. It's who I am. It's better you abandon me now and spare yourself the pain of dealing with me."

"You know I will never abandon you. No issues you have, no thoughts in that walled-off head of yours would ever change that. You must believe that. If you didn't, you'd not have been willing to give up your life for me. That speaks volumes. Actions always speak louder than words."

Alex almost spilled his soul to Nicky at that very moment, but he thought for one instant too long. It was too hard for him to do that -- not only to deal with his own feelings, but worse, to allow someone else to hear them. Alex just didn't want to let Nicky know what was going on in his head. He didn't want anyone to know his secrets. It was with a torturous, painful sadness that Alex realized he just wasn't ready yet. He had far too many secrets because he spent his entire life collecting them. Letting someone in was too dangerous. He was afraid it would collapse his world.

Fear won and Alex finally spoke, "Nicky, I don't think I can. I don't even think I know how. I've been holding back for far too long."

"Sure you can. You're just terrified to do it, aren't you, Alex? You think I'm going to see where you're vulnerable and use it against you."

Alex looked at Nicky in disbelief because nobody had ever indicated they understood the real problem, the real reason. "That's not what I think," began Alex, trying to deny it.

"Don't bother denying it, Alex. I'm right and you know it."

Alex felt Nicky's arms wrap around him and the warmth of his body against his own. It felt so comforting. Alex realized he wanted to tell Nicky everything and just let someone know how much he'd been keeping from the world his whole life. He wanted to end all this pretending and acting that had become second nature. Alex wanted to end the charade and have one person know the real him. Alex wanted to be himself and not split into public and private selves. Nicky let go after a moment as he felt Alex relax in his arms.

"Yeah, Nicky, you're right. But I can't change. I'm not ready. I'm just not," muttered Alex, somewhat ashamed.

"I understand. I guess that's the decision then," said Nicky, nearly choking on the words. He was crushed beyond his ability to express himself.

"I guess so. I still care about you if that means anything to you. The time we spent together will remain with me forever. I will never forget what we shared. Will we ever meet again?" Alex said the words, though deep inside he knew it wasn't what he really wanted to say. I can't change who I am. Not yet. I'm really not ready. Why is life so unfair?

"That's up to you. You're always welcome to come to London," said Nicky, wondering if he'd ever see Alex again.

They were interrupted by the King's return. "Not to put too much of a rush on things, but Nigel will be here soon to clean things up, so I need a decision."

"We've made one. Alex is going home."

"Are you sure you're both okay with that?" asked the King, being very surprised. It wasn't the decision he was expecting. It certainly was the one he preferred. It was cleaner and carried far less risk.

"Not at all! Only one of us is okay with it. But, for right now, it's the right decision. I guess it's not time for Alex and me. At least, not yet," said Nicky as Alex just stood there, hanging his head in embarrassment and shame.

The King said, "Alex, I don't need to remind you how important it is that our world remain secret. That said, it's been a real pleasure. I mean that deeply, and personally. You gave me back my son. I will be in your debt forever. I acknowledge that. Whatever you may need of us, just ask."

"Thanks, but you really don't owe me a thing. That's what's wrong with the world -- people expect to be rewarded for doing the right thing. Everyone should always do the right thing. The right thing shouldn't cause notice; it only does because the wrong thing has become a common occurrence instead."

"Nice speech, Alex," said Nicky, a pained tone to his voice. Alex didn't make the connection, but the King did and arched his eyebrows.

"Nigel's back!" announced the King as Nigel stepped in the door, quickly shutting it behind him.

Nigel spoke hurriedly, "Sire, we need to prepare Alex and take him to the crematorium. Once there, Nicky will take him up and return him to the tube stop where he can re-appear and pretend nothing's gone wrong." Nigel turned towards Alex, and continued, "As you've noticed before, time doesn't pass the same here. They'll hardly know you've gone missing more than a few hours. Although they may find it upsetting, it can easily be explained away. Just tell them you went looking for Nicky in the park. You can deny any attempt at trying to avoid them following you."

Alex doubted it would be that easy. After all he deliberately gave them the slip. He supposed there wasn't much they could do to him short of a stern lecture. Alex's thoughts began to wander back to the decision he had just made with Nicky.

Alex's thoughts were interrupted as Nigel spoke. "Alex, you have to go soon. We have only a minute or two before they come to take away your body." Alex noted the intonation, indicating the ruse was still being maintained. "You must be very still when you're on the litter. They'll pick you up and put you in a special box used for cremations. It won't take long to do it, but if anything goes wrong the results could be disastrous."

"I understand," said Alex as he returned to the litter. Nigel covered him up just as the guards entered the room. A pair of uniformed members of the King's royal guard entered. Although they could most likely be trusted without reservation, Nigel felt it was important that the whole scheme be preserved with as many of the details as possible.

The guards lifted Alex's body from the litter and set it in the box gently. Alex had great difficulty not reacting to the touch and grip of the guard. As gentle as they tried to be they still assumed they were dealing with a corpse. Alex suppressed an involuntary shudder as they finally released him. He was thankful that the contact only lasted a few seconds.

The guards lifted the box and marched out the doors, with the King and Nigel following. A number of the other guards followed as well. The tunnels were now full as the ceremony was long over. Although Alex couldn't see the salutes directed at him, he did hear a number of complimentary things said as people passed by, and he was surprised. Apparently the King's earlier words meant a great deal to his subjects.

The room with crematorium ovens was warmer than its surroundings. Although the actual furnaces were well insulated under many layers of stone, brick, and sand, small traces of residual heat still managed to seep out. As Nigel had discovered when he went to check, the ovens were in use today. Alex started to feel claustrophobic. Fortunately, he felt the box being put down.

"You are dismissed. Please wait just outside the door. We will tend to this ourselves because it is the proper way to do it," insisted Nigel. The guards looked towards the King for further guidance and he nodded his assent.

Alex heard the doors shut. A few seconds later, he heard the bolt being thrown shut. Nigel whispered as he removed the lid from the box, "Ok, Alex, it's safe. Get up."

"Here's your luggage. I brought it along saying we were going to throw it in the furnace as well. You should change shirts. That one will cause quite a stir if you're seen in it either down here or up there -- it's rather bloodsoaked."

Alex quickly changed his shirt, his back to the three others in the room. He turned around, and Nigel took his soiled shirt, and put it in the box. The box was put into the furnace where it burned quickly.

Nicky realized it was time to go, as evidenced by the increasing sounds of many people outside the doors. "We better go, Alex."

"Yes, Alex, it's best you go. In a few moments we'll have to let the guards in. You can't be here. The Exarch has a secret passage that leads from this room, to the throne room, and also into the tube station. He thinks we don't know about it because he thinks he's far cleverer than he really is. You'll make your escape using it," said the King.

"Um, what if we run into him?" asked Alex.

"Fear not. He's just on the other side of that door waiting to be let in with the rest of the courtiers."

Nigel walked over to the brick supply closet in which the caretakers stored pokers and rakes for maintaining the furnace when it was not in use. A simultaneous tug on both ends of the wooden rack, caused the door to swing into the wall revealing a passageway. The King and Nigel watched silently as Nicky took Alex's hand in his, and led him, their hands intertwined, through the hidden door.

Alex realized there was a whole labyrinth of hidden passageways in addition to the public ones he had been down in his earlier visits. As they worked their way upwards, there was nothing said between them, though Nicky didn't let go of Alex's hand the entire time. Their journey was difficult for their souls if not for their bodies, the tension dragging them down like a heavy weight. Sometimes, Alex realized, tension could be so strong it prevented people from saying things they should say, or needed to say. Sometimes it even prevented them from saying they'd just made a terrible mistake. Or maybe that was just pride. He wasn't sure. Travelling along in silence, they soon reached a door. Nicky opened the door and soon they were back in the Lords tube station -- it was deserted as usual.

Alex knew that any minute a train would come, and he'd have to leave. "I want to say goodbye, Nicky," he stated, realizing as he said it, it wasn't what he really wanted to say. He wanted to tell Nicky how he really felt, but he couldn't. Not yet. He realized that sometimes he was offended by his own cowardice.

"Hurry," said Nicky. Alex thought it was a bit impersonal the way Nicky said it, but in truth, Nicky was fighting back too many emotions for words.

Alex went over to Nicky, embraced him. He threw caution to the wind, and gave Nicky a kiss. He was surprised when Nicky kissed him back. It was not the kind of kiss he expected. The moment would be frozen in their minds forever.

"Oh, God," said Alex as Nicky led him to the train that had pulled into the station. He silently mouthed the words he was afraid to say: "I love you," but he didn't think Nicky saw it.

As Alex looked out the window of the departing train, seeing Nicky shrink in the distance, he wondered if his decision was the right one. The breaking of his heart told him it probably wasn't. The sudden realization he had made the worst decision of his young life was accompanied by the strains of a familiar song in the background:

The train continued its journey through the dark, musty tunnel.

Alone With Myself: Author's Afterword
©1999-2004, WriteByMyself, All Rights Reserved.
Any duplication, in whole or in part, is expressly prohibited without the written consent of the author.

Before all other things, I'd like to thank the people who've written me regarding the first draft of this story over the past few years. Most of what was written has been complimentary, some of it downright flattering, while others have written just to say hello and to say that they like the story. Others have written me long missives about what I do, both right and wrong.

A very small group of readers has even written and told me that the story touched something deep inside of them. It was this small group of people who caused me to re-write Alone in more detail.

I appreciate all the correspondence. I give my heartfelt thanks to those of you who took some of your valuable time and wrote to me and expressed your interest and/or offered suggestions for improvements. I hope all of you have enjoyed Alone.

In the course of conversing with my readers via e-mail and instant message, I've met some interesting people, and I've even become close to a few of my readers, something I didn't plan to let happen. Ah, the unexpected twists of fate life throws at you. As a result, I've even forged a friendship that has lasted past the end of this on-line adventure.

When I first started writing Alone on 29 August 1999, I never expected it to go this far. I had a definite start and ending in mind. As with most stories, the characters sometimes do the unexpected, leaving the author to catch up. I found that the characters in the novel had plans of their own, developing personalities and ideas that I did not give them -- they became alive. The attachment of my readers to the main characters bears witness to this fact.

Ultimately, an author should write primarily for himself (or herself) and I am certain I have done so. I was pleased with the ending I had written in the first version, but I have tweaked it a bit so there is no doubt about my intentions. And while I am sure this ending will satisfy no one save the author, I am just as certain it is the right ending for these characters. I have become as attached to them as my few, but faithful, readers. There will be no sequel, but that is not to say there will not be future stories with some of the same characters.

I really do think Alone is good -- this from someone who hates most everything he writes. Usually, after writing something, some months later I'll go back and re-read what I've written and be terribly dissatisfied. I don't have that issue with Alone. It still feels good to me when I read it some five years later. I'd really like to get it published. What I really need is a good, experienced literary agent who handles novels of this type. If you are an agent (or publisher) or know of one, or can help me with this endeavour, drop me a private e-mail. I'm not doing this for the money, but for other more personal reasons. If published, I'll donate a portion of the proceeds to a charity that will benefit kids who need help.

Lastly, I want to reiterate my thanks to each and every one of you for the time you have invested in my story. It means a great deal to me. Thanks for taking your valuable time to read what I've written. As always, I appreciate the time my readers take to read what I write.

Sincerely,
WriteByMyself