DAY 1:
"An order from above. You're going to London. A car will be here this evening. You'll be back here in a few weeks."
Eagle and Snake were surprised to find out their refresher training would be put on hold. For what? No one knew. The sergeant grumbled something about "Special Operations" and left it at that.
Little did they know Blunt, the head of MI6 Special Operations, had been contacted by Joe Byrne regarding a certain child.
The CIA agent breathed a sigh of relief mixed with nerves. He'd just seen two of his fellow Americans go down and killed more men than he'd care to count.
The operation in Egypt had been a snafu from start to finish. At first, it was unclear who exactly was trying to kill the Secretary of Defense: the Egyptians, who let a secret tunnel be built to the assassin's perch, or the British, who were about to be ridiculed by the woman. Tensions were high politically and socially between intelligence agencies when suddenly this child showed up out of nowhere – and Mr. Byrne trusted the child with his life apparently.
The agent shook his head and looked around, focusing on the moment. The hostiles had been neutralized: dead or lined up against the wall with their hands on their head. The bodies littered the area, and sand glistened red. Some of surrendered were shaking. Others were calmer. The other agents were watching all of them closely.
He didn't jump when one of the Egyptian soldiers fired and killed someone who had dared to go for a weapon. He didn't startle when one of his 2 partners – as two others and Lewinsky were killed – clapped him on the back. Of the original 6 Americans, he was the least easily surprised. He only grinned solemnly back and nodded. Back-up was going to arrive in 10 minutes. They just had to hold down the fort.
The CIA agent had been the one who had crawled out on the precarious rope bridge to get Alex down. He'd crawled out slowly but surely, with a safety line trailing back to his fellow soldier in case the single rope supporting the rope bridge collapsed. Alex had waited calmly when he said, "Don't move, Alex! We're coming to get you." He would have expected the boy to struggle more.
Not that the boy could have moved, considering that he was tangled up in the remainder of the bridge.
Nevertheless, he'd moved like an inchworm out to the boy. Yet the boy seemed to be entranced by something below them; but the agent hadn't taken notice of what. His priority was the boy.
When he'd reached him, he clamped his legs onto the rope and seized hold of the child. He'd looped one arm around the boy's waist and used the other to grab his knife and cut the remainder of the rope bridge ensnaring the boy.
The boy didn't resist. He only stared vacantly at – now the agent looked – a pile of salt. The boy didn't panic when the agent cut the last of the ropes and he dropped into the agent's single-arm grip about his waist. The agent had then inched his way back to the safety of the ledge, finding himself oddly grateful for his physical training.
"That's it," the agent's partner said, bringing him out of his analytical thoughts. "Back-up's here."
One of the Egyptian secret service men turned around in circles for a moment before walking over to the CIA agent. "Where's your child?" he asked calmly but urgently. "Didn't you tell him to stay here?"
Both CIA agents looked around frantically. "Oh, shit," Alex's savior muttered.
"Beta sweep, now, for subject A," the other called out to the third CIA agent, who nodded and immediately took off running in one direction. All three split up, running to look for a lost boy.
"Alex!" the American agent called, panting. It was the agent who had helped Alex down from the bridge. He'd been running circles around the complex, looking for Alex. It was only once he'd left through the large gates in the front, shone his flashlight around, and seen a charcoal-black vestige of a car that he found Alex beside it. "Alex, what are you doing here?"
For his part, Alex remained kneeling by the car. He didn't look up at the agent's call. The car was blackened to the point where the model was unknown. Most of the roof was missing. It resembled a crater - at least in the driver's seat.
"Alex?"
He didn't move, for he was mourning the loss of his guardian - no, his last family member. It was only when the agent tapped his shoulder that he looked up, his eyes hollow. The American looked lost and uncertain, as if he were seeing an alien before him.
Alex probably was like alien to him. Depressed child agents weren't common.
"What's wrong?" the man asked. He'd pulled his hand away.
It didn't bother Alex. He simply turned back to the car. It held the remains - or at least the surrounding area did, after the massive explosion - of his only friend. He couldn't just leave her. He hadn't said good-bye, after all they'd been through. He'd never tell her again just how much he loved her.
The agent, for his part, was conferring with one of his partners, who'd joined them outside Razim's complex. Alex barely listened, but he caught glimpses of their conversation.
"...basement...chair...straps...Alex...knives..."
Alex didn't react when a hand suddenly dropped onto his shoulder. "Alex, are you injured? Do you have any cuts?"
Silently, Alex shook his head, still studying the car.
Jack's grave.
"We need to get him back to base, get him a full medical," the new agent behind Alex stated. "No one gave you one since you were kidnapped, right?"
Again, Alex shook his head.
"C'mon, kiddo. Let's go." The agent was trying to lift him up by his underarms, but Alex wouldn't have any of it. He twisted out of the man's grip and stood, reaching to the car and touching it for the first time. His hand rested lightly on the frame of the car.
Now that he was standing, he could see inside more clearly. There was no driver seat left, nor any other seats. The floor was gone. The frame only remained partially in the back, on the passenger's side, and it looked like it would fall anyway. The wheels were nowhere to be seen.
The body was gone. Obliterated. Decimated.
Dead.
"Alex?" the agent behind him asked, interrupting his thoughts. "Alex? Can you hear me? Can you speak?"
Alex murmured something to the car. Then he turned to the agent and said, "Yes." He didn't look him in the eyes.
"Okay, then. Let's get in the chopper and head back." Alex silently followed the man, expressionless. He ignored the concerned looks he was subjected to, instead rethinking his last sentiment to Jack's resting place.
Goodbye, Jack.
"Alex!" Joe Byrne called out as he emerged from the chopper. "You're back."
That got no response.
"I wanted to talk to you. We need to go to my office after you're checked over."
The complex was a simple one. Fortified, but hidden. Alex followed Byrne and his bodyguards into it. They took him to the infirmary, where he was let out quickly. He had few physical injuries – minor ones, like a bruise on his shoulder, a scrape here and there. Byrne eyed Alex concernedly before leading him once more.
The hallways were bleak once they passed the cover-up component. Eventually, after a long maze, they entered a plain room. The walls were a neutral sand color, made of the real thing. A round table sat in the middle of the room, guarded by four chairs with thin cushions. Alex wondered if it really was Byrne's office or simply a secure room.
Then he decided it didn't matter to him.
The head of Egypt's elite forces was waiting for him in one of the chairs, facing him as he had walked in. Manzour smiled a little. "Hello, Alex."
Alex nodded his greeting. Manzour dropped his smile a little.
Byrne indicated Alex should sit in one of the chairs. "We never got a chance to formally debrief you, Alex. We just want to know a few more of the details. I'm sure you've done this before."
"It's not like you need to know more," Alex replied scathingly. "I already told you what you need to know. I just want to go home." But where was home? Jack wasn't -
A knock sounded at the door. Byrne had opened his mouth, but he quickly shut it. Then he opened it again, a strained smile gracing his features. "That would be the back-up agent of yours. He stayed while you were missing. MI6 had him scouring Cairo for you and your company, when you missed your flight. They had him sent over once we'd found you, and he just got here."
The knocking came again, and this time, Byrne stood and opened the door. It was Smithers. He wasn't wearing his fat-suit. Alex twisted around in his seat and blinked, taking in the wiry man before him. He still couldn't quite believe his eyes.
"Hello, Alex. It's good to see you're in one piece." Smithers was smiling. He wasn't hiding his Irish lilt, either. Then he squinted, really taking in Alex's demeanor, and near horror crossed his face before he adopted an expression of concern. "By God, what happened to you?"
Alex looked down at Smithers' feet. He didn't reply verbally for a long moment. Smithers took the seat next to Alex. Manzour sat opposite.
Finally, Alex decided on a reply, now staring at the table's center like he thought it would speak to him if he just waited long enough. "I'm fine. But you don't have to look for Jack anymore."
The other two intelligence heads glanced at each other. "Excuse my interruption," Manzour butted in, "but who is this 'Jack'?"
Smithers answered for Alex. "She was Alex's guardian. She went missing the day Alex was kidnapped."
Rather tactlessly, Alex thought, Byrne asked, "Is she dead?"
"Yes." The word from Alex was spoken without emotion or hesitation.
Smithers grimaced, his eyebrows scrunching together. He placed his hand firmly on Alex's shoulder, squeezing it gently. He didn't say anything for a minute. No one did. Alex wondered if they expected him to burst into tears or something of the sort. He didn't.
"Alex," Manzour finally asked, "I'm going to lay the most important questions out. First, how was Gunter poisoned by a scorpion? Second, what did Razim do to you?" Alex flinched; he knew Smithers could feel it. "Third, what was the point of Scorpia's operation? And lastly, could you tell us more details about how you came to have a look-alike?"
Alex looked down at his hands. He didn't feel up to this. He'd just finished what he came to the heads for - to stop Razim, one of Jack's murderers. It was like his heart - enflamed by Jack's death - had been removed. There was a gaping hole.
"Alex," Smithers piped up solemnly, "you don't have to answer, if you don't want to." He directed his next words at the heads. "The answers aren't vital," he explained.
"I think," Byrne intervened as Manzour made to respond, "that it would be in Alex's best interests if he spoke to people he's more comfortable with." Manzour seemed to want to argue the point, but again, Byrne stopped him. "Alex has just been through a great ordeal. He deserves peace and quiet and familiarity. And it's as he says, Ali - the answers aren't vital, merely fillers to the holes we'll have in our files."
"You're not saying-"
"I'm saying that Alex's partner should be the one asking him the questions, without us. Something has clearly happened to him. He doesn't need to be asked in this room, either." Byrne smiled sadly at Alex, who didn't see it. In truth, Byrne was almost scared of Alex's responses. Had Alex killed Gunter or facilitated his death? Had Razim killed Jack before Alex's eyes? And the whole look-alike business was another matter. He could send a formal inquiry to MI6.
"Thank you," Smithers replied shortly. "I'll be taking him to the airport, now - may we have an escort?"
"Of course," Manzour replied bitterly. It sounded to Alex like he wanted to do anything but provide escorts. "They will meet you at the top of the complex."
"Thank you," Smithers said plainly. Alex had to give him credit - Manzour was certainly trying to get answers, but Smithers refused politely.
Without another word, Smithers stood, and Alex followed suit. Smithers removed his hand from Alex's shoulder. The remaining two waited while they left the room.
As they walked down the corridor, Alex bowed his head slightly. Smithers, despite walking slightly ahead of him, noticed, and slowed his walk for a moment.
When Alex was directly beside him, Smithers reached out and took Alex's hand, drew it up alongside himself, grasped it with his other hand, and hooked his elbow around it, holding his other hand on top of Alex's. Although it was a romantic move by many standards - leading Alex like a man would a lady -, it was clear that the gesture was meant to be comforting.
Alex simply followed.
They made a brief stop at the place Alex and Jack had stayed at. Smithers had gathered up Alex and Jack's luggage. Alex waited in the car with the escorts.
Then they had gone to the airport. Smithers and several other slightly out-of-place buff young men flew with the pair back to Great Britain.
Now they had touched down in Heathrow airport. Alex felt tired even though he'd slept on the flight.
Smithers, to his credit, had tried on the airplane to debrief Alex. But Alex had stared off into space, in another world. Smithers had relented when Alex finally turned to him and said, "Please stop."
Somehow, it seemed Alex had died.
In the airport, Alex walked through the gate surrounded by plain-clothes security. He could tell they were armed, but it wasn't readily obvious to anyone not looking for the signs. Alex frowned. Did they think he was still in danger?
Why did MI6 want him alive?
DAY 2:
A few hours later, Alex found himself in yet another form of transportation: a car. It felt like time was slipping through his fingers like water through a sieve.
Smithers sat beside him in the back of the vehicle. He was looking out the front window, but Alex noticed whenever he looked at him. Alex stared at the buildings flashing by.
It stung where Razim had struck him hardest: at his heart. Alex's chest felt tight no matter what he did. Shifting, Alex maneuvered himself so that his knees pointed in the general direction of the window. It had what he really wanted: an escape. Ignorant passer-bys strode past. A woman of twenty dressed in a suit stalked away, and a boy of three followed a father in a t-shirt. Alex envied their normal lives.
Alex could barely bring himself to think about the whole affair in Egypt. It hurt. Razim had cut him deeply. Alex tried to think of the people closest to him and failed. Tom, the Pleasures, and MI6 agents came to mind. He really didn't have any family left.
"Alex?" Smithers asked. "We're here."
Alex blinked, and realized that he had been staring at the Royal and General Bank for a while. He just hadn't registered it. Smithers stepped out of the car, and Alex followed him inside.
Alex shivered as his walked past where he had almost died before. He couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better for Jack if he had just died there. At least she would be alive – with family.
They ascended the stairs and walked into the lobby. Smithers didn't even go to the reception desk. He went straight for the elevator and pushed the button.
Alex trudged along behind. If he was honest to himself, he wasn't sure why he was here. Did the reason Scorpia tried assassinate the American really matter that much? He wondered. The point was the he had stopped Razim from doing what he had set out to do. That was enough, wasn't it? Why wouldn't they let him alone?
The elevator dinged and opened. Alex trudged behind Smithers as they headed into a familiar office. Smithers didn't knock – clearly the heads were waiting for them.
"Hello, Alex," Mrs. Jones said softly as they walked through the door. "How are you?" Even as she asked, Mrs. Jones could see. Before, Alex had been too serious for a normal boy, but now it was more than apparent that something absolutely terrible had happened to him. He wasn't standing as straight, dragging his feet, and just looked wrong for a teenager.
Mrs. Jones privately wondered if her kids would ever look like that. She hoped not.
As her words pierced Alex's ears, the boy looked at her. If there had been a spark before, it was gone now. "Alive," he answered quietly.
Smithers gently placed a hand on Alex's shoulder, but Alex stepped away and Smithers made no attempt to replace his hand.
Blunt cleared his throat, and for once he was looking uncomfortable or maybe even regretful instead of his usual grey appearance. "Let's get down to business. We have a few questions about your most recent mission."
Alex looked at the floor. He said nothing.
"How was Gunter poisoned by a scorpion?" Blunt waited for a few moments. "The sooner you answer, the sooner we can move on to other topics."
Alex shrugged. "I put a scorpion from my cell in a cigarette box and asked him for a smoke. It stung him."
"A cell at the base?"
"Yes."
Blunt nodded once. "What did Razim do to you there?"
Alex looked up for a moment, and Mrs. Jones could see the torment within him. Whatever they had done, it was devastating and painful. When he looked at the floor again, he was somehow more broken than before.
"I don't think you really want to know."
And of course, he was right. Mrs. Jones didn't really want to know what had happened to their youngest agent. No matter how stiff Blunt was outside, Mrs. Jones suspected that he too was reluctant to ask. After all, it could have be anything psychological, most likely involving Jack, his guardian. Since he was alive and relatively unhurt, the worst must have happened to Jack. Mrs. Jones knew that letting him ignore or avoid the topic was detrimental to his emotional health, but they were the heads of MI6 – it wasn't like they had all day to wait for Alex to answer.
Blunt waited for a moment before responding, "All right. You will be asked again, though. On another topic, do you know what was the point of Scorpia's operation?"
Alex nodded. "Some rich guy named Zeno-polos paid to have Scorpia get Britain to return the Elgin marbles to Greece." Xenopolos, Mrs. Jones thought. A Greek billionaire with cancer. He was dead now. Must have been in his will to pay Scorpia upon success.
Blunt asked how the operation was supposed to happen. Alex answered, "Scorpia planned to frame British government for using a child agent – me – to assassinate the Secretary of Defense when she was about to say bad things about Britain and use that as blackmail to force Britain to return them."
Blunt asked how he stopped them. "They were planning on killing me outside of where the Secretary of Defense was supposed to have been assassinated. I escaped by tricking Gunter. I found where Julius was and distracted him."
"How did he die?"
"I followed him. I sh-shot him." Mrs. Jones exchanged a look with Blunt and was surprised to see concern in his eyes. She knew Blunt felt emotion too, but it was rare for him to express it so openly. They both knew killing people had negative effects on the human psyche – but shooting your own face was another matter.
"Mr. Byrne and Mr. Mansour told us the rest of what happened. Good job, Alex," Blunt praised. Mrs. Jones almost he was going to stop, but he added a little more praise than usual. "If it weren't for you, Britain would be in a lot of trouble. Mr. Byrne said he was most impressed by your deeds."
Alex looked up for a moment. He didn't say anything, but the snide comment he was thinking floated around the room. If I hadn't done that, Jack would still be here.
"Also, Smithers and Mr. Byrne have informed me that your guardian is no longer capable of taking care of you. He sends his condolences." Mrs. Jones wondered at the phrasing. Blunt didn't usually beat around the bush. Maybe it was his human side trying to soften his words for the child before them. "He also sent you chocolates from Artisan du Chocolat, his favorite." As he said that, he pulled out a box.
Alex looked at both of them, his face unreadable but somehow sad. Mrs. Jones felt a jolt of surprise as she realized that she and Blunt hadn't gotten him anything. Blunt coughed and continued. He must have come to the same realization, even though Alex had no specific reaction to their neglect.
"In light of your age, we recommend that instead of going back to your house you go to the New Forest Center–"
"I won't do another mission," Alex interrupted, quiet but firm. "I've got nothing to lose. You don't want an agent like that on a mission."
Mrs. Jones felt something twist inside her at the word "agent". To think they had done that to Alex was unbearable for her from the start. "It's not a mission, Alex, for real this time," she heard herself saying. "It's a rehabilitation center for our agents."
"What happens after that? I can't stay there forever," Alex replied.
Mrs. Jones swallowed before continuing. Alex would need more therapy than he could get in a single lifetime. Some scars last that long, and she knew it herself. "I know. I've been in contact with the Pleasure family, and they're looking into possible adoption."
Alex stared.
"As I was saying," Blunt continued, "we recommend that you go to the New Forest Center so that you will be looked after. Security there is top-notch, and you would receive therapy."
Alex sighed. "Okay. But what are you going to tell my school? And what about my friends?"
Mrs. Jones let Blunt answer. "Your school will be under the impression that you have left Britain with your housekeeper for special treatment. You may contact your friends if you wish, but we would need to monitor that conversation. We will, of course, inform her parents and relatives, but she didn't have many contacts in Britain besides you and Ian."
"I'd have to pretend J-Jack is alive?" Alex asked uncertainly.
"Yes," Blunt answered. "Can you do that?"
Alex didn't answer, but Mrs. Jones could see the answer written on his face. No. Even if he himself wasn't sure, both she and Blunt could tell easily.
"Alex," Mrs. Jones continued, gathering Alex's attention, "we have reason to believe that Scorpia may have a few agents left. While they're a laughingstock now, there's still a chance that someone may try to exact revenge on you. We've assigned you bodyguards."
"Smithers, you may leave now," Blunt ordered. "Get yourself suited up again. We don't want too many questions."
"I'll visit you," Smithers said by way of valediction. He left. Alex wondered if he made the suits himself – maybe he would include more gadgets in his outfit this time.
Blunt reach and out pushed a button on his desk. "Come in," he said.
Eagle walked through the door to the head's office, Snake trailing just behind. If it weren't for his training about how to act around superiors, he might have said "Cub!" out of surprise. As it was, the boy glanced away and Eagle followed suit. Still, he masked any emotion and saluted once Snake was ready.
"At ease," Blunt said. "Have a seat."
Once seated, Blunt continued. "This is Alex. You've been assigned to protect him. He recently took down a base of operations and foiled a plan of Scorpia's. While the organization is no longer active, we think it prudent to make sure no lone wolves get a hold of him."
Eagle glanced at Cub – or Alex, he supposed – again. He looked a little older than he did a year ago – maybe sixteen? Though Eagle wouldn't call himself the best at people-reading, something felt very off about the way Cub held himself. He seemed less… energetic.
"You're to take him to his house, first. Make sure it's secure, then let him get his belongings. Do not leave him alone at any time. New Forest Center is expecting Alex by midnight, but you should arrive by 7:00 this evening if all goes well. You are to stay with him there as long as deemed necessary. If there are any complications, contact us immediately."
Eagle nodded, as did Snake, but they both knew all this information already. They had both received files that detailed Alex's house's layout, routes to and from every destination, and information about possible threats, including a few pictures. They hadn't, however, been told about what happened to Alex or what Alex did. The file was near empty, merely stating that he was in danger and had experienced recent traumatic circumstances that he might need support for. It was clear to Eagle that Mrs. Jones was saying this for Alex's benefit, not to inform the soldiers.
Alex nodded. He seemed to realize that he was the one being addressed, even though it seemed like Mrs. Jones was talking to the soldiers.
"Are there any questions?" Mrs. Jones asked.
Alex opened his mouth, then closed it. Mrs. Jones looked right at him. "Yes, Alex?"
Alex looked at the floor. Eagle put his finger on it then – Alex looked dead. Some spark of life was gone – something terrible must have happened to him. But it hadn't been in the file.
"Why them? Do they know about… me?" Alex asked quietly. Defeatedly, Eagle thought.
Mrs. Jones looked remorseful. Inside, Eagle was shocked, but outwardly had no change. This woman was capable of showing her emotions, even when in professional-mode? Whatever Eagle didn't know about Alex, it must be important.
Ignorant of Eagle's opinions, Mrs. Jones answered. "Our psychologists suggested that familiar faces, if possible, might help you in some way. They said it might be easier for you to reach out to or confide in them." Eagle exchanged a glance with Snake. He wondered if the other soldier was sharing his sentiments. They had been told it was a protection mission – and the SAS weren't exactly trained for emotional support or anything like that. That was what shrinks were for.
"They know basic information, like where you're going and how you'll get there. They know who and what might be a threat. They don't know what you did or what was done to you. You can choose to tell them if they wish, as they have the clearance." She paused. "Are there any other questions?"
Eagle hesitated for a moment, but it was his duty to express any concerns or doubts about a mission. He could hardly ignore the elephant in the room, or so it seemed to him. "Sir, are we supposed to provide emotional support for Alex in addition to protection?"
Alex shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to Eagle. Mrs. Jones glanced at Blunt, and Eagle got the distinct impression that it was Mrs. Jones' plan from the way Blunt continued organizing papers on his desk and didn't return the look. "Yes. Are both of you capable of that?"
"No, ma'am," Eagle said, at the same time Snake said, "Yes, ma'am." They looked at each other. So Snake hadn't been thinking what Eagle had been: that they were soldiers and not shrinks.
Mrs. Jones drew in a breath. "Why don't you two step outside and discuss whether you'll accept this mission together." It wasn't a question, despite the phrasing.
Eagle stood at the same time as Snake and followed him outside. Once they shut the door, his potential partner wheeled around and faced him.
"Why not?"
Eagle swallowed thickly. The blonde, slightly taller Scottish man proved to be highly analytical. He could assess a situation in a way no one else could see in a minute. Now, he seemed a little peeved.
"We're not trained for this. I don't know what do to for him. I don't think I can help him beyond protection."
Snake's features softened. "That's a valid concern, mate, but just think about his circumstances. Mrs. Jones said familiar faces – that's normally friends or family. That they've come to us means that that child in there has no one left. They're looking to give him something familiar."
Eagle felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd considered only the difficulty of the request, not the implications of such a request. Not why they'd been asked or how MI6 came to them. Eagle could only imagine what it must be like to be a spy – to get a map with no markings on it for a mission briefing must be rough. He was oddly grateful for Snake's insight, but he still wasn't convinced. It didn't address his original concern.
"I won't do it out of charity for him. That's a bad reason to do it." He paused. Snake seemed to sense that he was still collecting his thoughts. "I'm worried that we'll make it worse for him."
Snake grimaced. "I think just having people who aren't strangers around him is a good start. Even if we do a fucked up job, it's better than nothing. He just needs some support. MI6 obviously isn't assigning this mission because he need protection."
Eagle figured his expression must have cued Snake to continue. "Look, it's not going to be any more difficult than putting an arm around him if he cries or listening if he wants to talk. He may not even reach out to us at all. It's not like we're his best friends. And our protection duty only lasts as long as Alex really needs it, which can't be more than a few weeks, as we were told."
Eagle found himself persuaded. Somehow he felt this was a fight lost before he'd even started.
"Besides," Snake added, as if to tip Eagle's mental scale with another weight, "aren't you curious about him?"
Eagle sighed and opened the door to the heads' office.
Alex hadn't said a word throughout the car ride from the bank to his house.
He didn't say anything when they told him to follow them quietly through his own house as if it were the Killing House from training.
He followed them into his own house, carrying his chocolates, and followed them through the rooms as they secured each one. No one was waiting for them, it seemed. They even opened closets, looked under beds, and otherwise made sure no one was there.
No one but the three of them.
They moved up to the second floor, the last room on the left in the hallway. Alex was standing behind them like all the other places. Eagle moved ahead of Snake, counting down with hand signals until he burst into the room and checked it out. Snake moved in right behind him.
The last room was clearly a woman's, if the mirror and dresser indicated anything. It was sparsely decorated, and as Snake checked the closet, he found that whoever it was, she had packed her clothes recently and left.
"Building secured," Eagle said, once Snake sent him a last hand signal. Snake nodded once and turned around to see Alex standing in the doorway, looking into the room with an unreadable expression on his face. Snake could only imagine what was going through the boy's head. He could only imagine if Alex had been led through his own home like the Killing House before. It was a weird experience, Snake assumed.
"We don't have to leave for another few hours," Eagle stated. "New Forest is expecting us before midnight, so we don't have to leave until 10:00. That gives you about 5 hours to pack, though it won't be the last time you're here. Dinner will arrive at 6:00."
Snake nodded again. It was around 4:30. He hadn't looked away from Alex. It was like the boy wasn't even aware of them anymore. He was looking unfocusedly into the room, as if remembering something.
"Alex?" Snake asked. The boy looked at him for a moment, then looked at the bed. Now Eagle was staring at Alex too. "What's wrong?"
Alex didn't say anything. Snake could feel genuine concern bubbling up. "Alex?"
"Jack," the boy finally said, his voice thick. "Jack's not here."
"Who's Jack?" Eagle asked.
"My housekeeper," Alex replied softly. He still seemed off to Snake.
Eagle, to Snake's surprise, stepped up to the plate. Even he could sense that something wasn't quite right, it seemed, and he walked over to Alex and put a hand on his shoulder. Then he said, in possibly the gentlest tone Snake had ever heard out of him, "Alex?"
"Why don't you have a seat?" Snake offered, gesturing to the bed, though Alex was already looking at it. "You can worry about packing later. Maybe Jack will come around."
Alex didn't move right away, but he slowly walked over to the bed and sat down. He put the chocolates on the nightstand. Eagle followed him and sat beside him. Privately, Snake thought Eagle was doing a better job of emotional support than he was. Maybe Eagle had younger siblings or young kids. Snake knew nothing about Eagle's personal life.
"Yeah?" Alex said quietly. Snake shrugged.
"Is that her?" Eagle interrupted, leaning around Alex to point at a photo on the nightstand. Alex looked at it carefully, as did Snake. There was a younger version of Alex posing next to an older blond man and a redhead woman. They were all laughing in the picture, and it looked like they were in paradise on a beach of white sand.
"Yeah. She's the redhead."
Eagle looked at Snake desperately. Alex was nothing like they remembered – a clear communicator, if a bit taciturn. Now he just seemed lost. There was something he wasn't saying.
"Do you want to call her or something?" Snake managed, trying to help Eagle. He wondered about the relationship between Jack and Alex – professional, right? Or maybe closer. It was hard to tell.
Alex shook his head. "I can't," he answered softly.
Snake sighed. "Why not?"
"She's dead," Alex deadpanned. He said it so casually and without emotion that Snake wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Alex hadn't even looked at Snake or Eagle – he was still staring at the picture on the nightstand.
Snake choked. He felt like he was very much at a loss for what to do. Eagle was right – he had no idea what to do next. "Well, what about the other person in the picture?"
"He's dead, too," Alex said again.
Snake felt more lost than he would on a mission where the intel was in the wrong language. He remembered his own words to Eagle – that the kid must have no one left – but somehow he wanted to believe that wasn't the case. Somehow he couldn't believe it.
"Do you have anyone left you can talk to?" he asked, a little blunt.
"No," came the answer.
"Not even a shrink?"
"No." That was a bit of a surprise. Didn't MI6 want their agents in tip-top shape? Regardless, Snake almost would have preferred it if Alex were crying. It would make him feel like less of a bastard, because then he could just give him a rough hug or some kind of back rub with a "There, there".
Eagle was giving Snake a look that plainly said, "What now?"
"So, um," Snake stumbled for conversation, "were their deaths recent?"
"Ian died a year ago," Alex answered. "Jack died the day before yesterday."
Eagle let out a heavy breath. "Jesus Christ," he muttered.
Snake couldn't stop himself. "How?" When Alex didn't answer, Snake realized he'd gone too far. Somehow that was too much. "I'm sorry for your loss," he tried instead. Eagle muttered something like agreement into Alex's ear.
"Can you both leave?" Alex asked.
Snake shook his head – not that Alex saw. His eyes were still glued to the photograph, as if in a trance that would unlock some magic to bring Jack back to life. "No. We have to stay with you at all times."
Eagle put a hand on Alex's opposite shoulder and the boy flinched. Then looked at Eagle and finally at the floor. Snake watched in near amazement as Alex's face scrunched up as if in physical pain. But no tears fell. Then the boy smoothed out his facial expression to the previous dead look he'd had.
"Want to lie down?" Eagle asked softly. Alex nodded. Eagle pulled back the covers while Alex kicked off his shoes.
Snake watched guiltily as Alex curled up under the covers facing away from both of them. He'd pushed the boy for a lot of answers, and he was surprised at how much Alex had been willing to reveal – and so emotionlessly, too. Alex had hardly expressed anything but a single moment of pain.
Eagle put a hand on the lump under the covers that seemed to be his shoulder. It was a small sign of solidarity.
Snake swallowed and had a silent conversation with Eagle. What now? Snake asked with a gesture.
Eagle shook his head. I don't know. Then, Snake noticed an abrupt change in Eagle's expression – his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his eyes widened ever so slightly. He looked down at Alex, and Snake followed his trail of sight.
The lump under the covers was shaking a little bit. Crying, most likely, but somehow suffering. Snake could feel his heartstrings being pulled. He looked around the room desperately: maybe there were tissues and a wastebasket, two important tools when dealing with weeping. Once located he could little more than put them in front of Alex, who was buried under the covers.
"Do you need anything?" Snake asked. Eagle looked between the two of them when Alex didn't respond. "Tea?" He remembered the present the heads of MI6 offered. "Chocolate?" He paused. "A hug?"
Suddenly, it all felt wrong to Snake. Eagle was very right – they didn't know Jack or Alex and they weren't trained for this. He had no idea what to do, and it felt like he was intruding on Alex's most personal moments. This wasn't Snake's house, and he didn't know what was in it or what had been in it – only Alex knew. But Alex wasn't really in a state of mind capable of telling Snake what was best for himself.
Eagle, on the other hand, had practically switched stances with Snake, it seemed. He gave Snake a significant look, looking between him and Alex as if saying "watch". Then he took off his shoes and laid down beside Alex, almost spooning with him despite the covers between them. He put one arm behind his own head and draped the other over Alex.
Snake understood immediately. Eagle needed Snake to witness their interaction, should any questions arise about their physical closeness. He nodded at Eagle to show he understood. Then he pulled up the chair from the desk and took a seat. He had no idea how long Alex would spend like he was.
In the end, Eagle was left alone with Alex on the bed while Snake went to pick up whatever dinner MI6 had sent them.
An hour and a half, Eagle thought. I've spent an hour and a half holding a kid in pain. He felt terrible that Alex had no one else – that he, Eagle, was the closest person left for the child – but he also didn't feel much of a sense of duty towards the child. Alex wasn't his son or relative. He didn't owe Alex any favors (or maybe he did but didn't know about them, he supposed). Alex barely knew him, and likewise he barely knew Alex.
It was his duty to protect and support Alex emotionally since he accepted the job. That was why he was holding Alex.
Somehow that made him feel guilty. Like he should care about Alex.
But he simply didn't.
Still, he gently rubbed Alex's side when the boy's incessant shaking grew a little stronger. The child had used only a handful of tissues. It felt like the kid wasn't ever going to stop. Crying this long couldn't be normal – not for over an hour.
Snake finally returned to the – Jack's, was it? – room with dinner in his arms.
"Dinner's here. Shall we eat?"
Eagle twisted around to face Snake. He was holding a few paper bags.
"Alex?" Eagle asked quietly, twisting around again. He rubbed the kid's side. "Let's eat."
Alex didn't move. If anything, he curled up a little bit more. Eagle sighed. He was fed up with this mission already. He wasn't trained to support people emotionally, just physically. Sure, he gave to charity and helped volunteer, but somehow this was different.
"Look, you haven't packed and you haven't eaten," Eagle said, a little firmer than before. "You've got four hours to do both. Not eating isn't an option right now."
Alex still didn't move.
Snake muttered, "I'll go set up in the kitchen. Come down when you can get him to, all right?" He left.
Eagle sighed.
This was the worst mission ever. There weren't even any real threats, as far as he and Snake could tell. He had to support a mourning teenager and ferry him around.
That's right – the boy was mourning. Maybe Eagle could play a manipulative card.
"What would Jack have wanted?" Eagle asked softly. "She wouldn't have wanted you to skip meals, right?"
No response.
Eagle sat up and climbed off the bed, putting his shoes on. He walked around the bed and pulled back the covers, past Alex's head. To his surprise, they came back easily, even though the kid had been clutching them.
Oh.
Alex was asleep. And he was crying, too, which was weird.
Crying in his sleep.
A first for Eagle to see.
Somehow he felt kind of bad for the kid. For him to be this torn up over whatever had happened – and it hadn't escaped Eagle's notice that Alex hadn't answered the question about what had happened to his guardian – it must have been torturous.
With more compassion than he'd displayed for Alex before, he reached out and ruffled the kid's hair.
"Alex?"
Alex opened his eyes, and Eagle pulled his hand back. They were bloodshot, and his face was pale but flushed pink in some places. His nose was reddish, and he looked dazed.
"It's dinner time." Eagle waited. Maybe Alex hadn't been trying to be disobedient or too sulky – he had just been unconscious.
Slowly, Alex's eyes focused and drifted up to Eagle's face. "Yeah?" Alex said.
"It's downstairs," Eagle replied.
Alex nodded and took a tissue to wipe off his face. Then he pulled back the covers and stepped out of bed, finding his shoes and putting them on.
Somehow, it was like he was still asleep.
Eagle was driving, a fact that Snake was grateful for. He could drive, but somehow he felt off-kilter by the whole mission and wasn't really all that keen on driving.
The only downside was that he had to sit next to Alex in the backseat. It wasn't that bad, considering that the kid had drifted off a half-hour into the drive. He hadn't really tried to make conversation at all. But somehow the silence in the car was worse. While Alex wasn't outright crying, he wasn't doing anything else. His blank face was disturbing, in the same was a corpse's was.
Snake was almost sure that "Cub" and "Alex" were two different people.
"He asleep?" Eagle suddenly asked from the driver's seat.
"Yes," Snake answered.
Eagle hummed. Snake could practically feel Eagle's tension evaporate. "He still crying?"
Snake leaned forward a bit to analyze Alex's face. Throughout dinner, Alex had let silent tears fall without any real explanation. Snake and Eagle asked once each about it, but Alex just hummed non-committedly in response. He refused to look at them and he refused to eat more than half of what was on his plate. No appetite, it seemed. Then he packed silently while they watched.
"He's asleep," Snake said by way of answering.
"He crying?"
"No," Snake replied.
"Good," Eagle murmured. He seemed to want to talk to Snake – like something was trying to dive off his tongue into the conversation.
"What's up?" Snake tried.
"It's just…" Eagle paused. Snake waited, like he always did for anyone with a half-baked thought. "He kind of grows on you, doesn't he?"
Snake felt his eyebrows raise, even though Eagle couldn't see. "Does he?"
"Yeah," Eagle answered. "I mean, training was completely separate and we were distant because of the circumstances. Now we're his protection detail and support. We don't have as much reason to, well, shun him."
It was true that at training K-Unit had largely ignored the child, except for Wolf who actively bullied him. None of them thought much about it though – to them, it was a one-off stint of training for the kid, or maybe a holiday. Regardless, none of them ever expected to see him again. Even seeing their own unit-mates from training wasn't a definite prospect, as soldiers were assigned by capacities to missions. Snake and Eagle by chance had had a shared mission in London, but even then they weren't in the same groups.
"Hm." Snake answered. "I guess so."
Eagle continued, though Snake hadn't really encouraged or discouraged him. "I thought that this would be impossible to start, you know. Even reading the mission briefing – well – it was obvious that none of the threats were real. MI6 just wants us because we've met the kid."
"Yeah," Snake answered. He hadn't realized Eagle was so talkative about his feelings. Maybe his psychologist had suggested more frequent communication about feelings with others as a way to mitigate detrimental emotional effects from missions. Snake's had, but somehow Snake was reluctant to do it on the job. It just didn't feel professional.
Then again, this whole mission wasn't really professional from the start. The kid really needed professional help, and not in the protection sense. He needed people around him who really cared about him and would support him. Snake and Eagle could provide a watered-down version of that temporarily, but it wasn't like they could adopt him.
"Well, what do you think?" Eagle asked. He sounded genuinely curious.
Snake sighed. "I think I agree with your original point. We can't really help him."
"But you said –"
"I know what I said." Snake sighed again. He hadn't meant to come across so strong. "Sorry. But I think you were right. I have no idea what to do or say around him. I don't have a clue if I'm helping or hurting him."
Eagle chuckled softly. "That's funny, because now I agree with your original arguments – that we really don't have to do that much and that it's not that bad."
"You weren't the one shoving questions down his throat. You weren't the one who practically forced him to pack."
Eagle snorted. "One of us had to do it. Thanks for stepping up to the plate."
Snake smiled a little bit. He'd known that was true, but he still felt like he was coming across as a bastard to the kid. He really wasn't that cruel or mean – he just needed to get things done. Sometimes the fastest way was to be a bit blunt.
"Still, our mission detail says we stay with him as long as we're told to. I'm pretty sure that means we stay as long as it takes them to get him a place to stay or until we fuck up irreparably."
Eagle didn't answer for a moment. "Makes sense."
"It's just… don't you think I've taken a few steps toward fucking up our relationship with the kid? I mean, Alex isn't a bad kid, but I've been pretty nosy and firm with him."
Eagle spoke more firmly that Snake expected. "Look, he didn't answer your question about how his housekeeper died. And his uncle died, too. Now something really bad just happened to him. His life fucked him up more than you could by asking questions about his life. I'd say keep up what you're doing. Best he lets it out rather than bottle it up."
Snake made to disagree. "But still, he just seems so –"
"He was crying in his sleep," Eagle interrupted, more quietly and without the same resolve from before.
Snake thought back, confusedly. They'd picked him up from the bank, and then he'd lain down by Eagle. Then they had dinner – in other words, Alex hadn't slept until the car ride. "When?" He couldn't see Eagle's expression, but somehow he figured it was somber.
"When I was lying next to him. I tried to get him to go down to dinner, but I didn't realize he was asleep because he was crying in his sleep. He's really fucked up right now."
Snake didn't answer, but he was surprised. He was even more surprised by what Eagle said next.
"I wish I could help him."
Snake didn't know what to say to that. Finally, he settled on a simple, "Me, too."