Alex looked at the ridiculous amount of food the sergeant had placed on his tray for dinner. He could almost weep in frustration. "Eat all of it. That's an order from the MO." stated Harry Dixon in his no nonsense or you'll be binned voice. His eyes were worried though.

Alex started by picking up the three slices of bread and made sandwiches out of the slices of beef. He then put them on the side to eat last, the best bit of the sorry Catering Corps meal in front of him. One by one the stack of overcooked boiled potatoes were pushed into his mouth and swallowed. The mushy vegetables went the same way. He even had pudding. God, Alex hated pudding.

The Sergeant sympathised, "You don't look like your enjoying that." Fruit pie and cold custard was being shoveled and swallowed without chewing into Alex's mouth. Washed down with a large glass of water.

"No. I'm not. I'd have preferred a salad or stirfry. This is just stodge. Worst than school food." Alex grimaced. Food at Petrus had been shit, it still beat army food. Alex did not like the tradtional meat and two veg, sunday roasts and most english food. He could blame his mostly continental childhood and the fact Jack had never cooked such abominations. When eating out with Ian, Alex had picked chicken or fish over red meat. Always the healthy option.

"Pizza still your favourite?" questioned the Sergeant remembering him eating it almost continually when in the base hospital two years previously.

At fifteen, pizza had been like manna from heaven after a year of either hospital or school food. "I'm vegan. Well not any more, Doctors orders. I guess Pizza is my favourite food again." No matter where they had been living, Jack had always found the best pizza restaurant within days, a takeaway favourite for both of them when Ian was out being an international banker.

"You stick to the diet for four days and we'll have pizza on Friday."

"And beer?" added Alex, hopefully.

"And beer, you drive a hard bargain, trouble." laughed the Sergeant.

Alex earned a new nickname from the rest of the nutjobs at Brecon, Scarecrow. Well, he was stick thin with a shaggy mane of longish blond hair, it certainly fit. The name was slightly better than double-o-nothing.

Alex had enjoyed his two hectic weeks with the Sergeant, the whole visit only marred by his regular check-ups as he was called to the MO's office at the end of each week. The major was frustrated by the last set of results. "You have not gained weight, but neither have lost any. Keep eating regular meals. Forget about being a vegan, please."

Alex had both his car and motorcycle driving licenses. More a formality of just passing the four tests since Ian had showed him how to drive when he was 10. There had even been a weird birthday party for Alex at Harry Dixon's house, when E unit turned up with their family and partners. Sergeant had got a large chocolate cake. All in all it had been Alex's best and most chaotic birthday ever. Alex had not even freaked out when playing twister or blind man's buff with E unit and their kids.

Alex was sat at Newport Railway Station on his way up to London. Edward wanted to talk to him. Alex had been surprised a year ago when Edward had visited with his finished article for the Guardian for his approval. Alex had thought it was all in the Royal and General's court, to be asked his opinion had been touching and a complete surprise. It had been embarrassing at the way Lottie and Miriam proved to be a couple of fangirls. Edward at that meeting had stated he wanted to write a book on Alex's kidnapping. Alex had spent about a month thinking about it before photocopying a load of pages from his various journals and posting them to Edward. Their relationship had grown from there. He liked the journalist's family as well. Liz had accepted him, weird diets and all. Sabina tolerated the occasional visitor as part of her dad's work rather than as a friend

Alex walked into the offices of the Guardian and was told by the receptionist that Edward was running late. Alex lay down on the sofa and fell asleep.

"...lex...Alex? Wake up! Sorry I ran late. How was your trip to Wales?".

The two men sat in the conference room. Edward was putting the finishing touches to the manuscript and wanted to iron about a few points. Alex hated this. He had opened his soul, they had both sifted through the contradictions in place caused by the death of Herod Sayle. Alex's presence in Cornwall and London were the tissue of lies that he had been the ward of the man he and his uncle had spied on, the man Yassen had killed. Yassen was named in the book by his first name only. No mention of Cossack or Scorpia. Edward knew from Alex's silences over the few items that could not be spoke of even though Alex had written about the truth fully in his journals.

The digital recorder replaying an interview taken the previous summer. The issue of the nightmare twisted from operational detail to an problem during his high adventure, activity filled childhood, Ian's way of preparing him for what he had faced in Brecon, Port Tallon, London and later with Yassen.

...

Tell me about your worse experience with your kidnapper?

It was after the torture. We had settled into the routine of teacher and student. Yassen explained the principals of shooting, his style of shooting and I stupidly in a Yoda/Skywalker Jedi in training type moment said that what Yassen wanted was impossible. He was normally so cool and collected, that was the only time I have seen him completely furious. He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me across the farm to an abandoned shed. There was a trap door in the floor. He threw it open and I was bodily thrown in. I was not expecting a tank filled with freezing cold water. I was winded as I hit the water. He shut the door. I was treading water in a tank with no light, no supports and no way out.

A week earlier I'd had a nightmare. Well night terror. Yassen had woken me and had comforted me, he held me as I calmed down and he asked what had scared me. I had dreamt about an incident when I had been potholing. Ian , my uncle, liked extreme sports and encouraged me to like them too. I already had a PADI experienced diver grade. I was in a tunnel it was dark and I panicked. It was a case of go forward and I'd be OK. Ian always taught me to think for myself, to remain calm and to proceed logically. I used calming exercises to go forward and I was OK. I had dreamed of being trapped underwater in the dark, with no light you don't know which is the way to safety. I told Yassen all this, trusted him with my fears and he used it against me.

I freaked out in the tank, screaming and pleading for Yassen to let me out. It took a while to realise that Yassen would not respond to my hysterics. I calmed down. I controlled my panic. I tread water. You can survive for hours just treading water. The cold got to me. My teeth were chattering. I was shivering. It was like an eternity of cold eating into my bones. I was starting to falter when Yassen opened the trap door and dropped in a rope. I was cold and exhausted but Yassen stood above me, waiting. I had to climb out myself. I used my numb fingers to remove my clothes which were weighing me down and I hauled myself out. I had proven to Yassen I was strong. I was a survivor.

He wrapped me up in a blanket and we returned to our hut. Warm with a blazing fire. Yassen pulled off the wet blanket and raised a cane. I instinctively protected my head and he beat me savagely. He stopped and then he raped me. No warning he just pushed me down and fucked me. I was split in two, it hurt so much. I was in a world of pain. Yassen pulled out of me after he climaxed. Then held me as I wept. Told me that I needed to be punished. I had to accept Yassen's instructions if I was to be strong, independent, to be my own man. He held me until I fell asleep. I think thats when I stopped being a little boy, from being Ian's Alex and became Yassen's Alex, I was his completely. The next morning I initiated sex. I went down on Yassen. I sucked his cock. I took my time to pleasure him, to wring out his orgasm. I was his to mould, to teach, to fuck. I had decided to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He fucked me again that morning. Slow and long. Just as painful as the night before, but I came so hard. Pain and pleasure were Yassen's to control. We had training that afternoon. I did everything Yassen told me. I became one with the gun. I did everything to his standards. No more complaining. As I tidied up and put the targets and guns away. I told Yassen I loved him. I did love him. He was everything to me. Up down, black white. Day night. My world was now Yassen. He looked so sad when I said it. I would do anything for Yassen, except make him happy. I knew he would never love me.

...

Edward watched as Alex sat with a sad lost expression on his face, caught in that moment. Thinking about his time with Yassen. The journalist switched the digital recorder to record.

"Alex, you told me this experience caused your most vivid flashbacks and nightmares. Does it still affect you now, nearly three years after your kidnapping?"

"Umm. Yes, No, Maybe. I don't know." Alex sat back and bit his fingernails. "I know I'm still not normal, even after four stays in psych units. I still have nightmares but the PTSD is a thing of the past. I still don't like people touching me. I have yet to have sex or date seriously. I think I want to but its a big leap to let someone in. I have a few close friends. I'm not on anti-depressants anymore. I want to go to uni, maybe. I definitely want to travel. Life is an open book."

"OK, I think I'll ghost out the final chapter as in where you are now Alex. I have a few mockups for cover artwork for you to look at, OK?"

"I bet its the hostage shot." Alex added cheekily.

"It is. There are a few other photos I want to put in, school photos from Brookland. The photo you and Jack, one of you and Ian, I also have photos from your time in Israel, at school and at St. Jude's."

"Do you want a photo of us together?"

"I would. If thats alright. Can I arrange that with Michael?" Edward made a note in his Filofax. Alex looked at the photos. Reminiscing is something Alex never got at all. It was all past. Done and dusted. He looked at Jack and thought about visiting her in the States. Jack was now working in Washington, nearer to her parents in Baltimore.

"Oh, Alex, I reviewed your file from CAFCASS. There were a few letters that were not passed on to you from your Godfather. Mr. Howell was viewed as not a suitable influence and they rejected his attempts for contact or custody. Do you want to read them?"

Alex vaguely remembered his godfather from a visit in 1994. "Ash wanted to see me?"

"Yes Alex. He was checked out by social services. He has a history of violent behaviour." Edward passed over notes he had made on Anthony Sean Howell. "Ian did not even name him in his will as a possible guardian for you. Ash is based in Sydney but works abroad a lot."

"A bit like Ian, really." Alex was not surprised if Ash turned out to be another spook. "Last time I saw him we lived in London for a few months when I was seven. He dated Jack. I went to the park with him once. He really did not like kids. He didn't even come to Ian's funeral. If he'd wanted me he could have taken custody then." Alex did not know the man. "I better read his letters to see what excuses he has for being such a shitty godfather. "