A/N: So this is my first foray into the fanfiction world. I'm not the best of writers. Hope you enjoy it. Concrit is welcome!

Props go out to Sam and Kozy for inspiration. Thanks for forcing me to get this out of my head and onto my computer.

~Moldy

Walking into Alan Blunt's office used to be hard.

I'd been on end all day. You know that hair-raising nervousness that most people read about but never actually encounter?

It had started in my last period class of the day. I felt eyes on me. More eyes than normal. The tightening in my gut got out of control as I glanced around subtly, taking in all the students engrossed in the lesson. No one was actually paying attention. I specifically saw Tom doodling on his history notes and if I wasn't mistaken, I saw Sammie reading a book underneath her desk. Either way, there were too many eyes on me and none of them were coming from inside the classroom. I peeked out the window, searching for the eyes but to no avail.

The bell startled me out of my stupor and I shook my head to clear it. I got out of my seat and Tom sidled in next to me as I walked to my bike.

"What are you doing now?" Tom asked.

Still feeling twitchy, I informed him of my imminent plans to achieve world domination…but not really. I was just going home to help Jack cook dinner.

We went our separate ways and I approached the house with a strange sense of foreboding…after all…Jack never left the front window open.

I continued walking past inconspicuously, trying to scope out the situation instead of purely charging in. However, I eventually decided that being sneaky was evoking no conclusions, so I walked up to the front door and opened it.

I guess I could smell it before I saw it. There's a distinct smell to fresh blood that most people have had the fortune of not smelling. There was nothing I could have done…after all, I never expected anyone to attack my house while I was at school. I even figure seeing the body was inevitable. The screaming was unexpected though. Where was this unexplainable screaming coming from? It only took me about a minute to realize that I was the one screaming…that is, until my nosy neighbor walked by to see what I was screaming about. Then it was someone else screaming.

I guess she called the police because the next thing I knew, someone was leading me away from Jack's body.

I don't remember the trip to the Royal and General. I don't remember the trip up the elevator. I guess someone took me up there because I suddenly found myself in Blunt's office. I simply ended up there. No struggle or anything. Walking into Alan Blunt's office used to be hard.

There wasn't even a question. It was just assumed I had no other choice in the matter. Going to an orphanage or signing my life over to MI6. I guess Blunt thought that MI6 was the lesser of two evils.

My state of shock kept me from the argument that I so craved. Back when walking into Blunt's office was hard, no trip there was complete without some sort of verbal spar. After all, I took certain pride in being one of the few people in the world who could enter into a spar with the head of MI6 and live to tell the tale. Either way, I was quickly bundled up into a town car and taken back to Ian's house. No longer mine. It had been my house, though it was now relegated to the past tense.

I had approximately 10 minutes to pack up everything important to me. Everything else would be put into storage until I was old enough to exist legally outside of MI6 control.

The 10 minutes blurred together as I threw everything into a duffel bag. A picture of Jack, a picture of Ian, a picture of Tom, and clothes. I couldn't think clearly. After all, I had 10 minutes to pack up my life. What else would I need?

I sat down in the middle of my bedroom and just looked around. Shouldn't there be a limit to how scrambled a brain can be in the midst of life-altering decisions? Something that says, "No, you shouldn't drink anymore before driving" or "No, you shouldn't be packing up your life in such a spur-of-the-moment setting…" Unfortunately, there is no limit and I was quickly collected from my seat of introspection.

I couldn't honestly tell you how long the drive from my house to Brecon Beacons was. I stared out the window, soaking the situation in…or was I merely letting it sit on the top. I don't think anything was sinking into my psyche. I just couldn't absorb that my life as I had known it was over. I wouldn't get to turn in my term paper since I wouldn't be going to school anymore. MI6 hadn't even given me time to get over the fact that I wouldn't be returning home…I wouldn't ever see Jack again, not even at her funeral. These facts just kept running on the surface of my brain, over and over again.

As the weather adapted to my mood, tears and raindrops blended, indecipherable from one another.

I stepped out of the car and walked aimlessly to the Sergeant's cabin. I didn't even bother to knock. I'm sure it pissed him off something awful, but I truly couldn't have cared less.

The dreadful truth had finally begun to sink in. Gone was the normal, everyday life. It was as if I was stuck in a nightmare that revolved entirely around government conspiracies and blackmail.

It was then and there that I decided I wouldn't put up with Alan Blunt's crap in my life anymore. I didn't have to play along with the rules. They couldn't blackmail me anymore. They couldn't send Jack back to America anymore unless she was in a box…and even then, they'd have to dig her up first. I was all done.

The Sergeant placed me in a cabin with some unit who was wary of having a teenager in their group. I could have told them I wouldn't be there long. I decided to let them fret about it instead. Not my problem. As I sat down, they all packed up their duffels and left for an overnight hike. I could feel their questioning gazes. I ignored them. They'd get used to it. Instead, I laid down and went to sleep.

I guess they came back in the middle of the night because they were there when I woke up. I got up and went to breakfast with them but ignored the itinerary and went back to the cabin while they went to the shooting range. Why would I need to perfect my already perfect shooting? I wasn't going to do any work for MI6 anymore. It was no longer a matter of life and death. I decided a nap was in order instead. I guess I slept through lunch.

The Sergeant came in and yelled at me today. I didn't even pretend to give a shit. I think his parting threat was that he was going to call Alan Blunt and tell of my laziness. I simply rolled over, rolled my eyes, and ignored him.

I really don't know how much time passed before I got called to the office to talk to the machos on the phone…I just know that I ignored the page. If Blunt wanted to talk to me, for once, he could be brought to me instead of me being dragged to him. I think he tried to call at least three more times. Some people just can't take a hint. Meanwhile, I just stayed in my cabin.

"I refuse to treat you like an adult if you don't act like an adult."

"Just do the training and you'll be done…well, somewhat. You can't actually leave…"

"You have nowhere else to go. You have to succumb at some point, why not just make it easier on yourself?"

Blunt tried all these persuasive techniques. I guess he wasn't ever trained in Temptation 101. Good thing I was well trained in resisting unethical ideas.

I looked at the gray man sitting in front of me.

"Blunt, leave me the fuck alone," and I grabbed my bag, left the cabin, and started the continuous running that would become my life.

Hey…it's better than working for MI6 against my will. Maybe they'll even make a book about my adventures. Who knows.