AN: I was looking for a second job and so this story came to me. I hope that you'll like it. I also apologize for not updating my other stories. I will. At the moment I'm working on Past and Future and Girls Girls, you'll notice eventually that I have updated them. Maybe in new year :DD
Bike Messenger
When he had taken a job as a bike messenger he had done it for two reasons. To get a little pocket money for himself and to keep him in shape. After all if you drive in the city - say 60km per day, you were going to be in an awesome shape after a while.
After his uncle Ian died, he used his work in a way to get everything out of his head. It helped to drive around and see the city in a new perspective.
Then came the missions and he got injured a lot. Somehow he didn't have that much time anymore for doing his side job as he wanted, but luckily he had a very understanding boss, who actually was in SAS himself. In the Alps he had been with K-Unit and helped him. So he knew pretty much why he sometimes didn't come to work.
Then after Ash, Yassen and many others had died and he had taken a little time off from MI6 hew was sniped. After that they had deported Jack and that's how they were in the situation of today.
"Alex, we want to you to do something for us." Jones said - like so many times before.
"No. Absolutely not. You have used me, now you have departed Jack and that was the last connection I had to normal life. I want to be a normal kid." Alex argued back.
"Now, you don't see Alex. If you are not working for us, we are going to stop paying your bills for the house. You are welcomed to try living your own for the time being. Come to us when you have understood that it's simply not going to happen. YOu can't live without us." Blunt said.
Alex left the office without a word. He had so many things to do and think.
He went home and immediately used the laptop that Smithers had gifted him with. He needed to find every single possible thing that could give him some income - He was not going to be bested by MI6 in this matter. After all this was something that defined his future. If he couldn't handle himself then he would be forever with MI6. He would not be able to live.
He briefly entertained two thoughts. Hacking to the MI6 core system and finding out if Yassen was really dead - That wouldn't help him. The elusive russian owed him absolutely nothing, and even though he could possibly help him, it would defeat the purpose of this game.
The second though spanned from Yassen. Maybe he could be an assassin. But then again, he wouldn't know where to start. Also if he went to a killing spree MI6 would surely detain him faster that he could say innocent. He also didn't had it in him. He decided that if absolutely nothing else worked then then he would go along that path.
He found few things that could help grow his bank account. He could apply for a scholarship but with his school record - unless he could fix that very quickly, it would be absolutely pointless for him to apply for one.
Then there was the matter of being an orphan. He hacked to the government database to see if any of the deceased had left him with anything. And like expected they had. The only problem was that if he wasn't emancipated he would not get a hold of the money until he was 21.
Then again even that was doomed to fail, he was too young and even though he could hack some things this wouldn't go along well. His files were guarded better than anything he had ever seen from the government.
Orphan on the other hand gave him other opportunities. He could apply for a orphan support. He quickly calculated how much that would be in a month. They would give at least from the last six months retroactive support. He would get 300 pounds a month, which would make six months 1800 pounds, plus this months support which would be just enough to pay for the heating of the house and the basic bills. Electricity, food and other things. Well he needed to eat less, spend less in general and work hard as bike messenger.
So he got 300 of the orphan support and the pay from his primary job was about 400 pounds in a month with no hard work, if he worked harder than that then he could get at least 600 to 800 pounds from that. So he needed a weekend evening job.
He quickly continued looking in the internet for various jobs and if any would take him. He had after all just turned 15. Was he any good with children? Yes if he had to. He applied for all the babysitting jobs he could find close to him.
He hoped that somehow he'd manage.
After a month of two jobs, school and everything associated with life. Paying bills and working a little bit more to get some food under his belt he looked like he had seen better days in his life.
Tom had been getting worried. And that was just it. Alex looked horrible. He had lost weight, had dark shadows under his eyes and looked tired. He had cached up on school and that was mostly the reason for those changes.
He studied at night. He could sleep much. Even earlier, before anything, he was a bit insomniac, now he used this decease for his own gain and studied all the time he couldn't sleep.
His teachers had once again started praising him for his apparent success and he was back at the top 5 pupils of his school.
"Alex man - you look terrible - what are you doing to your self?" Tom had asked once again.
"Look, Come to my place tonight at say.. 8PM I should be off from work about that time and we'll talk okay?"
"Whatever you say.." Tom said back to him. He was really worried.
He had seen Tom and had told him about the had been surprisingly understanding and had offered him anything he wanted. He could always come to Tom's place and have dinner there. If he didn't mind his parents going off again for no reason. They were in the middle of a very hard divorce and were fighting hourly.
Alex had had a lot of time to himself now that he had caught schoolwork. But the situation wasn't still great. He had to put limits to almost everything he did. He bicycled in to the school - like he had always done. After that he bicycled to work and from there to home.
He had no metro card or anything. If he wanted to go somewhere he did it by bicycling. He just didn't have the extra money for anything. He hadn't bought new clothes and had to hunt for cheaper food and hygiene things.
On the plus side. Now that he was all caught of school work he had taken up cleaning and cooking in advance. He had the freezer full of food and so didn't had to buy anything but the absolute necessities like tea, coffee, milk and so on.
He had been saving for his school books. A new period was coming up and he needed some new books, and they weren't cheap. Earlier when Jack was still there and he had allowance from MI6 and so on, it wasn't hard for him to get everything top quality.
Now he had to find used books and things for himself just so that he could afford to pay for everything else. Nowadays he didn't call to others. He waited that someone called him. Unless he had something very important to say.
Being a bike messenger had other advantages though. He knew where things were cheap, he had found hundreds of short-cuts in the city and knew it like his own pockets. If anything was to happen he would know it and could escape efficiently if necessary.
Now he also had the stamina and muscles to escape. If he wanted he could go 40km/h with his bike without a very bad effort (1). But he hoped that those skills would never be needed.
After two months of the schedule he had figured out to himself he had used most of his previous savings and thought of starting to save more. It would be only a month and then summer holidays would start, which would give him the opportunity to do more work and save for next year so that maybe he'd have enough money, so he wouldn't have to work as much.
He looked a little bit worse than before. He had taken Karate and football practice up again. Now that he had been in school for two months straight and a little more, the coach had been only too happy to get him back on to the team. The coach also said that if he still had a god performance and attendance record at the end of the year, he would been made the captain of the football team for the next year.
Karate was paid for him for the next two years. Ian had paid it for three years just before he died. In the dojo he was the star pupil and his sensei liked him immensely.
He took the lessons from Malagosto to hearth. You could never practice enough. And so He had Karate 3 evening in the week, football 2 evenings and everything should have been fine in his world.
But that wasn't the case. He thought that either the stress was getting to him. After all he didn't really have much time to relax, he slipped little and even that sleep was riddled with nightmares and memories from the past. He knew how much good food could do to you, but even that didn't work miracles. He was nowadays always tired. He simply had too much to do and not enough energy to even relax.
He went to school, quickly came home, ate and changed clothes, went to work then came back to home again and ate, showered, did his homework and sleep if he could and repeat.
On weekends his days were like this: work, home, work, home and sleep. And of course karate and football practice. Sometimes it felt like too much, but he wasn't going to give up his freedom.
It was now almost 4 months since the episode with MI6. Alex had a basic package delivery. To the not so nice area of Chelsea. He got the package dropped of, got the signature and all. It wasn't bad. He wasn't cycling back to the HQ to get at least one more package before he would leave.
He got to the HQ unharmed. Being a bike messenger had it's bad points as well. Most of them had been injured by cars and accidents. It was a dangerous job. He got a new package from the HQ, he needed to deliver it to The Cadogan Hotel which was a mile away from Chelsea.
At the hotel he went to the receptionist and said politely:
"Excuse me. I have a delivery to Mr. Anton Lutrova."
"Oh. I'll check his information for you, wait a minute please." The receptionist that was a young woman, maybe on her twenties informed him.
"Yes, He's in the room number 314. Third floor on the right." The receptionist whose name was Anna as read from her identification plate said.
"Thank you." Alex said and took the elevator to the third floor.
It took him a while to find room 314, but he managed it. He knocked tot he door and it was almost immediately answered.
On the doorway stood a blond haired, about 25 year old male with striking blue/grey eyes and toned physique. He had strong features and was wearing black button-up shirt and black slacks.
"Hello little Alex."
They were sitting, drinking coffee and talking about things that had came and passed. It was strange in a way how two people, so different and so alike could in one moment be killing each other and the next talking over coffee.. Even though their professions alone would have made them arch-enemies.
"You were supposed to be dead." Alex dead panned.
"So were you. I heard that Scorpia sniper hit you."
"Your informant hasn't been up to it's par lately. Aren't you the best assassin of the world? you should know."
"Yes well.. I have noticed many holes in my information network lately. Some of my most important informants have been killed my MI6 among others. But I try to follow whats happening to the best of my abilities, without starting to spy myself." Yassen said in a somewhat comical tone.
"You look well.. How did you survive?" Alex asked. He was naturally curious. He respected the man. in their world second chances where something far away and usually they didn't happen. You had one chance and if that failed usually it led to your elimination.
"The paramedics got me. They carted me to the public hospital. I slipped into a coma and then just left one night. There wasn't any security. I hadn't had any form of identification with me and no weapons of any kind were found on my person. When I heard that I had been proclaimed dead, I of course took the chance. I wanted to retire. And so I did." Yassen said.
"Oh. Well good for you." Alex said. Suddenly he was starting to feel somewhat tired which wasn't anything new. He still had to go once back to HQ and then have a quick bite of food and go to his other job. The Andersons were a nice lot, they had a three year old daughter named Lucy and a five year old boy named Connor. They were okay to babysit as they most often just played and Alex read them stories and got some food done for them and then put the into bed.
"You yourself on the other hand are not looking good, explain." Yassen ordered. It was exactly his styler to order. He had this commanding presence.
"What? Oh.. Well.. There was this thing. I don't want to work for MI6 so they deported Jack and took all of their monetary support away from me. They count on it that eventually I'll collapse from the strain and come begging at them for a second chance to do their dirty job. I have been doing two jobs, going to school, I have Karate 3 times a week and football practice 2 times a week. It just sometimes feels hard. Also my.. Well, old injuries on the.. job, don't really react well on the strain." Alex explained.
"Don't you have any connections so that you could get some money and so fourth from them?" Yassen asked.
"Well my old Unit probably hates me, And they are in Iraq so They really can't help. Ben is too much of a.. well patriot to do anything about the situation anyway. He knows, and he knows also that he is unable to do anything, so he won't even try. I can't call Jack for help. It wouldn't be right for her. Tom.. Has been helping me some times but he's just a teenager and his parents are going trough a tuff divorce, so he can't help me that much." Alex said.
"I can support you partly if you want to. If not at least let me take a look of your injuries. I know that I am a more competent medic than what you are." Yassen said.
"Fine." Alex said simply and begun to strip. On his chest stood the bullet wound, there were criss-crossing scars around it and over it for a good measure. His stomach looked like someone had tried to gut him some time back. His back was even more scarred than his front. There were whip marks where the General had hit him.. It was not a nice sight.
"Where does it hurt?" Yassen asked.
In the end, he went back to MI6.. To set them straight. Yassen had taken his guardianship to himself. He had a new identity and MI6 didn't have any DNA or prints to actually prove that it had been him.
With Ben's help they had gotten everything quite well done and bike messenger was still Alex's job. He had something to be thankful of. He now because of this side job of his, had a guardian who actually cared for him and so in the end, he was alright. Everything was alright.
(1) I have read some interviews and so forth, so I know this is accurate speed. It's very possible to go this fast, and even more so :D
AN: I hope that you liked it. I have been white ill lately for some reason or another. If internet is to believed I have either: diverticulitis, pulmonary embolism, fibromyalgia, osteomyelitis or chronic anemia. Sounds fancy doesn't it? I don't believe in any of those, even if my symptoms match. Don't give a rat's arse. Anyway, I hope to see ya all soon and remember to R&R.
Lady Logos.