At the Bus Station in San Francisco Alex flipped a quarter, heads to go north to Vancouver, tails to go south to Los Angeles. He had already ruled out Joe Canterbury, as he was in military school in Vermont and not living in Washington DC with his parents. So, it was heads to visit Tom McMorin. The young Canadian lived with his maternal grandmother, now estranged from his parents after his imprisonment at Point Blanc Academy. The ex-MI6 operative was running away. Fifteen and fed up with everything. Getting grounded for missing four appointments with the psychologist. The same shrink had thought him delusional and prescribing anti-psychotics when Alex had discussed the events in Cairo. A teenager who was 'under stress' and had created a fantasy world to explain the death of his former guardian in a freak car fire. He knew if he stayed he'd be institutionalised by talking of Ian, Blunt, Yassen, Grief, Sarov, Cray, the Triads, his godfather or any other creeps who had hurt and abused him.

While Liz and Edward were out at the theatre, Alex had cracked Edward's safe to collect his passport. He had emptied his own savings account before leaving London of all £450, leaving a balance of £3.72. Sabina was away staying with friends. The next door neighbour was supposedly baby-sitting but was fast asleep infront of the TV, which was playing at full volume. He had stayed in his room when the woman arrived and he hoped no one would notice he was missing until it was time for school on Monday morning. He had decided there was no point leaving a note, just to say 'life sucks, I suck, you suck, everything fucking sucks'.

The family had not adjusted to the arrival of a damaged and disturbed teenage boy at all well. Edward's offer of hospitality was meant to be long term, a proper family, but the reality had quickly shown that they had completed underestimated the task in hand. Alex's behaviour was not bad, he had stopped acting out; but he was silent, only attending meals to poke at his food and never acting like the boy that had invited to stay previously. This new Alex was the product of the hard life he had endured and the losses which had taught him not to get attached as it would all turn to shit. That prediction had come true as he had overheard the tense discussions between Liz and Edward and the more chilling phone calls to London, about his lack of cooperation and inclusion.

The reality was he was counting the days until he was eighteen; when he planned to blow every penny Ian had left him on getting drunk and/or high and making sure no agency wanted to be a hundred miles of such a loser ever again. He had gotten great tips from Cassian. That guy knew recreational and prescription drugs inside out. Tom was already a teen with a drink problem, so Alex would have a master class in partying hard before he returned to London in two and a half years time. Not that he thought he would be spending all that time with Tom McMorin. After his birthday, he'd find work and get a apartment either north of the border in Canada or in the good old US of A. He had a full US residency card courtesy of his work saving the world.

It was late on Saturday when Alex arrived in Seattle. He had no plans for getting a room or finding a hostel as the first bus the next day for Vancouver was at 7. He bought his ticket and went in search of food after over twenty three hours travelling already. It was a truly horrible night spent moving often, he was jumpy and a couple of nosy adults had asked him if he was OK and where his family was. His brutal answer of all dead had shocked them and allowed him to make a move. Unwanted, unloved and probably unlovable, except by a couple of nutcase Russians, both now dead. By Eleven, he'd be in Canada. Buy a map, or find the bus to Noons Creek Drive, Port Moody, where Tom now resided.

At nearly eleven, the bus slowed as it entered Canada, stuck in a queue of traffic. Alex had thought it was just a quick flash of his passport and that would be it. Everyone was required to exit the bus. Security had tightened in the past year.

Alex was careful to stand in line with a family of a boy slightly younger than himself, to appear as if they were travelling together. The line shuffled forward, the Border Guard looked at the teenager. "Your parental consent letter, please."

"Errr… I'm just visiting a friend for a week or so," Alex winced as it sounded a bit lame.

Alarm bells were being triggered, fifteen alone and strangely calm and uninterested . "A requirement of all minors travelling unaccompanied is a written letter of consent from your parents or guardians."

"So, I get to go back to Seattle without it. Fine. I'll go back and stay with Cass." Alex was not phased by stupid bureaucracy. "So, I wait for a bus here or what?"

This kid was a sly one, no mention of home, parents or siblings, just staying with friends. They did not get runaways often. "Its not that simple. First you get follow my colleague Jen here and answer some questions, then you can go home."

Alex had noted the exits, the four guards and the fact this was a situation he could not run from. "OK, but I need the bathroom."

Home was not San Francisco, not London, not anywhere. He doubted his foster parents would want him back after this stunt. Edward's last admonishment had stated he was burning his bridges with his difficult attitude. Alex thought it was normal not to talk to adults, to stay in your room and act like everyone was your enemy. The problem was that he had no interest in anything apart from hiding away, as night past day. These people would call Edward, then it would be a trip back to London and be back in the custody of the Royal and General Bank. He went straight into the stall of the men's room. Plan A and Plan B had failed. So, with no other choice it was Plan C.

…

Jen Lancey waited fifteen minutes, even the most monumental bowel movement did not take this long. Was the kid carrying contraband? Probably trying to flush the evidence away as she waited outside. She went in to see the cubicle shut but no desperate flushing taking place. She knocked on the door, "You OK in there kid?" Only then to notice the trickle of blood on the floor. She picked up her radio "Code Red Medical Emergency Arrivals Mens Restroom… Repeat Code Red…"

Alex groaned, he was still conscious. He had slashed his left wrist twice, which was gushing blood all over his jeans and the floor, but failed on his attempt to hold the knife to do his right hand side, then dropped the blade before attempting the crucial slice across his carotid artery. He had made a right mess of his exit plan. He was a bit woozy, but attempted to get on the floor to finish the job in hand before they prized the door open. Suddenly he was slumped by the toilet, feeling sick and light headed. The smell and sight of the blood, his blood made him retch.

He could hear Jen talking to someone else. He was out of time. As the burley security guard pulled him out of the cubicle all Alex could think to do was beg, with a pathetic 'Please don't send me back… Please, nobody wants me. I can't go back. Don't send me back.' He kept his mouth firmly shut.

"Where's your passport kid?"

"Where do you think? I flushed it down the toilet. Not going back. Nothing there for me anyway."

The man was roughly administering first aid. "Well, kid; Paramedics are on there way. What can I say except welcome to Canada. We don't get many this desperate to stay."