A/N: getting a little more action in this chapter! (Oh really?)
One quick note, I'd forgotten that the names for K-unit I'd given them aren't universally known and was informed thusly so here they are: Eagle is Eric, Wolf is Jaime, Snake is Donnach and I think everyone should know that Fox is Ben Daniels, since I didn't make that one up (Oh Anthony, you so funny, giving one a name only after he joined MI6. Is that a special privilege? Just wait, one of the others will switch as well and BAM, a new name will be cannon.)
Also, I realized as I was reading this over that I refer to Donnach as Donnach instead of Don as I did laster chapter. I guess he just got a whole lot more formal with himself...I'm sorry.
On with the action!
"Hullo there, name's Alex Bray, I'm the old man's nephew." Alex grinned toothily as he sat in an empty desk between a prissy looking brunette and a red-headed jock. A grunt from the jock and a long 'hmm' from the brunette, as well as a light roll of the eyes, was the only response he recieved. The spy wiggled down, rooting himself to cheap blue plastic, and flipped his hair out of his eyes, Smithers had insisted on giving him a style that screamed 'falling sideways' and 'watch me angst'.
It was first period and the only ones awake in Honors Literature were the bright and bubbly man beginning to gesticulate wildly as he paced back and forth before the class, Alex, and the odd student with an actual thirst for learning. Everyone else was catching up on missed sleep or daydreaming of the day's end.
Alex had slipped easily into his role, delinquent nephew of the principal who was roped into taking classes while his parents were out of country and he was officially on break. It was refreshing, to have a job like this one, Alex thought with a smile, pen twirling absently in one hand. Brought back his own memories of school, before he'd been blackmailed by Alan Blunt and his peppermint addicted right hand woman. Of sleeping through the morning, fooling with friends and playing football during P.E.
Speaking of P.E., Alex remembered what Ben had told him during the briefing, the actual coach was out for a month on sick leave and the sub was someone he knew, someone he was going to have fun with. And Alex was pretty sure that he didn't mean fun in the 'pillow fight' sense, but more of the 'give him hell'. He was looking forward to it.
"How about our temporary guest? Mr. Bray, would you mind telling us what you thought of the relationship between Paul and Kat from the book 'All Quiet on the Western Front'? Assuming, of course, that you've read it at your school, a classic really, I'm sure you have." the teacher, a Mr. Arnold Grace, smiled encouragingly at Alex and the spy pulled a face.
"They were totally gay for each other." he said, slouching in his seat and feeling his backpack dig into his back. He sipped from his travel mug while Mr. Grace gaped at him, thanking the powers that be that he was allowed to bring it with him and refill it in the Teacher's Lounge. "I mean, there was an entire paragraph where Paul talked about how much he loved Kat, yeah? Totally gay."
Mr. Grace managed to pull himself under control and smiled weakly. "You have to understand, Mr. Bray, that the concept of love was different back then-"
"Yeah, men were actually allowed to be gay in the army." Alex interrupted him with a steady gaze. He sat up abruptly, noting the teacher's flinch, and smirked. "But times have changed, haven't they? We read Julius Caesar and every time the term 'lover' is used in connotation between two males, it's just 'they're great friends' and 'different concept of love'. Today the same thing happens and suddenly *BOOM* fangirls!" he made small explosions with his hands for emphasis then settled back into his chair. "Jus' saying, yeah?"
"I-Uh-erm-" Mr. Grace floundered for words. The jock beside Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair and scooted to the far side of his chair discreetly. The brunette stared at him with appraising eyes, wide behind designer glasses, the kind that changed with the lighting Alex bet, and a pencil twitching in her hands. A closet 'fangirl' then?
Alex didn't have time to ponder after that. He was promptly sent to the principal's office with a small pink slip in one hand and a 'Even if you're related to the principal, that doesn't mean you can make such outbursts and expect not to be punished' from poor Mr. Grace.
As the blond spy trudged to Mr. Bray's office he couldn't help the Cheshire grin that threatened to split his face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and began whistling a video game theme song with an added little pop to his step.
Oh damn, was it good to be back in school.
"Alex, you do realize how you could have just compromised your cover, right? Speaking up like that in class on a subject you shouldn't, by all means, be so...so passionate on." Mr. Bray sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger as Alex's grin, if possible, grew larger. I'm getting to old for this, the principal thought.
"He was asking for it, Mr. Bray." the blond said matter-of-factly as he collapsed into the empty seat before Mr. Bray's desk and thumped his backpack beside him on the floor, reluctant to drop his high school persona completely.
"How so, Alex?" Did he even want the answer to the question? Mr. Bray wasn't at all sure. Knowing the man sitting before him, an unnerving grin affixed on his face, the older man couldn't help but pray to whoever was listening that he hadn't signed his sanity away in accepting Alex as his bodyguard while the threat hadn't been traced or confirmed as real.
Alex took a long drink of his coffee before replying loftily. "Because, my dear sir, we were discussing All Quiet on the Western Front, in a Honors class."
"So...the explanation behind your strange and suspicious outburst is that 'it was an Honors class'?" Mr. Bray asked slowly, feeling a migraine start thumping a hello on the right side of his brain. Alex shrugged.
"Eh."
"Could you please elaborate? I really don't have time for this, and you still have to get to the Physical Educations class next."
Alex seemed to think about for a few seconds, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully before releasing and nodding. "Certainly, dear friend." he circled a finger upward in the air as he talked. "At a mission in America, I was loaned to one of the agencies over there, I went undercover at some school in California and they'd all read the book their Sophomore year. Honors Literature is only open to Seniors, does this not sprout worry in your educator brain? That education is slowly degrading to the point where we read second-year books, for regular classes to boot, in an accelerated Honors class?"
Mr. Bray promised himself a nice long soak in his bath even as he replied. "What, pray tell, does this have to do with your job?"
Alex paused then spoke. "Absolutely nothing, sir," he said, "Oh will you just look at the time! I have just got to get to P.E.!" he grabbed his bag and whipped it over his shoulder, speeding to the door and pausing to look back at Mr. Bray with a charming grin. "Later Mr. Bray! Maybe we could catch up for a coffee sometime!" Alex waved cheerily and was gone.
The aging principal sighed and resisted the urge to lay his head down on his desk and weep.
He was a dead man.
"How was school, Alex? Learn anything new?" Mr. Bray asked at the end of the day when he and Alex met up in his office. The no longer teen-spy shrugged and ruffled his hair back from his forehead.
"Not much," he said. "I mean, apart from the scarring news that Maddy Hills gives a mean blowjob, Jonas Blick is a suspect closet freak, and apparently Mr. Castillo-Torres, which is an awesome last name when translated, is my old unit buddy from the SAS? Not much. Not much." Mr. Bray looked at him blankly. "Castillo-Torres, it translates to 'Castle-Turret'."
Mr. Bray shook his head. "That wasn't what I was confused over, Alex," he said and interlaced his fingers, looking at Alex over the brim of his sensible, wire-rimmed spectacles.
"Oh, well then what was it that you were confused over?" Alex cocked his head to the side, smiling lightly. The perfect picture of innocent bewilderment.
"I-never mind," the older man sighed and focused his eyes more sharply on the blond sitting before him. "Are you sure you didn't catch anything about the threat? As much as I would like to believe that none of my students would ever join such an organization as horrible as SCORPIA, I really don't."
"Sorry, Mr. Bray, no word from the kiddies." Alex said with a shake of the head, slouching further in his seat. "Although..." he adopted a ponderous expression and tapped his bottom lip with a forefinger.
"Yes?" Mr. Bray leaned forward eagerly.
Alex sighed and shook his head. "Nah, it was nothing." he said. "Just heard some teachers in the break room saying something about 'advancements' and 'raises'. I figure someone must be looking for more pay, or a position that guarantees them more pay. Better look at retirement or keep one eye open. Wolves are vicious creatures when they're hungry."
"Do you think it might have something to do with the threat?" Mr. Bray asked, Alex shrugged.
"You should probably look into it, just to make sure." he said. "I'll tell the agency to run some background checks on a Mr. Hillfore, Mrs. Nops and Mr. Castillo-Torres. See yah tomorrow, Mr. Bray?" Alex stood up and slung his backpack over one shoulder.
"Oh, sure..." Mr. Bray said weakly. Alex smiled brightly at him.
"Oh, don't worry, friend!" he said, "I'm sure it'll all work out! Later tates!" after a rigid salute Alex slouched again and shuffled moodily from the office.
Mr. Bray stared at the door the spy had passed through for a while after Alex had left.
"I always liked the Bahamas." he muttered finally, breaking out of his trance and opening a drawer in his desk. From it he drew a rubber band held stack of retirement brochures and flipped half-heartedly through them before throwing them almost roughly back into their place. "Hungry wolves? Hmm, I guess they'd better get used to bowing down to this Alpha." he chuckled dryly at his own joke and pressed a button on his phone.
"Yes, Mr. Bray?" the training secretary answered the page, what was her name? Bridget? Britney?
Mr. Bray hazarded a guess. "Bridgney? Think you could bring in a cup of tea? It's going to be a long afternoon." there was a pause on the other end before the girl answered, this time her polite tone sounded a bit forced.
"Of course, Mr. Bray, I'll get it right now." the line went dead and Mr. Bray leaned back in his seat with a sigh. Was it just him, or did he hear her mutter 'my name is fucking Heather' as she hung up? The door opened to admit the girl, a plain little thing with a habit for plain clothing, and his precious tea, always Mango Ceylon with only a tint of milk and plenty of sugar.
She set it on his desk and with a small, strained smile and a 'good afternoon, Mr. Bray', the girl left him in peace.
Mr. Bray picked up the cup and raised it to his lips. He only sipped it once and immediately set it back down, he didn't touch it the rest of the day.
I don't remember chamomile tea tasting so much like...dog piss
Donnach was bored.
Not only was Jaime refusing to talk to him, apparently programming the man's alarm clock to let forth a burst of gunshot noises every morning wasn't in the man's 'haha' book, (He was pretty sure that the man was still subbing for the rich kid private school, though) but Eagle got called out to guard some big shot CEO of some company big on helping others while he was in Africa visiting the poor children.
Then Donnach didn't even want to think about what Ben was doing, something about 'rookie training' and 'teaching idiots how to pull a trigger on command' was all Donnach had heard over the phone that morning when he's called, the line was strangely crackly and short circuited before Donnach had time to ask for a clarification.
Whatever it was, though, it didn't sound fun.
So, having nothing else to do, Donnach collapsed onto his couch, turned on the TV and settled in to watch soon-to-be-brides beat on each other in a race to get the better wedding dress, or some such ridiculous nonsense. As he watched, too lazy to even change the channel in search of something worthwhile and brain stimulating.
Donnach had to admit that he was glad he was gay when he chanced upon such showings, no need to get in some hissy bitch's business and risk getting his eyes clawed out by fake nails and gaudy fake decorative gemstones.
Donnach flinched as one crazy bride bowled over another crazy bride in pursuit of some slinky wedding dress that would look better on a corner worker than a pure, virgin bride in Donnach's opinion.
He tried to tell himself to change the channel, perhaps to some gun-crazy show that talked about ghillie suit competitions and catered more to red-neck Americans and teens on house-arrest than him.
Even Wolf, the manliest man Donnach would ever have the pleasure of meeting, stayed away from such channels, preferring to clean his guns while he watched Japanese Iron Chef with his girlfriend.
But he was both too lazy to change the channel and Candy just started plotting revenge against Lulu for taking the wedding dress that was obviously hers. Having come to the conclusion that he might as well lose brain cells while he was off duty, Donnach burrowed further into the not very comfy couch cushions and watched.
Turned out it was a marathon day for the show and Donnach didn't have to worry about finding a new trashy show to watch in a half-coma. That was his first thought when the second episode began introducing new watchers to the brides-to-be, when halfway through the fourth episode the screen blacked out.
"Eh?" Donnach slid from the couch and checked the lights, they flickered on then off when he flicked the switch, so it wasn't a blackout. He tried the power switch on the remote, but no sign of the TV bringing him back to the world of vengeful brides-to-be. "Huh."
Guess I should eat something then. Donnach thought, heading for the closet sized kitchen off the living room. He chuckled as he grabbed two slices of bread from a bread box Eagle had painted daisies on one boring summer day.
"TV's telling me something, I need to get out more." He said to himself, popping the bread in his new toaster, having been forced to get a new one after the old one was dumped in a kiddy pool the same boring summer day that Eagle fancied himself an artistic assassin.
Looking outside the sky was clear of any clouds and a bird tweeted cheerily from a tree. It was a beautiful day and Donnach sighed. "And no one to spend it with." He watched a cat stalk the bird in the tree until his toaster dinged and ate the toast dry.
Halfway through his toast the house phone on the kitchen table began to ring a merry tune. Grabbing the phone with his free hand Donnach pressed 'talk' and brought the newfangled device to his ear, speaking through toast crumbs.
"You've reached Donnach Innes, who may I ask is calling?" he asked.
"Get over here. Now." Jaime ordered harshly on the other end. Donnach blinked.
"Right on it." He hung up and shoved the last bite of toast in his mouth, heading calmly to the cabinet under the sink and grabbed one of many first aid kits around the house. Within minutes he was in his car and driving to Jaime's.
It wasn't a long way, a little over ten minutes with traffic, and Donnach didn't bother wondering why Jaime had called. He was the medic, when the medic was called so out of blue and gruffly there was important medic stuff to be done.
Of course, for all he knew it was just Jaime's girlfriend butchering herself trying to cook again and the lug of a Hispanic overreacting.
As Donnach turned into Jaime's driveway the front door opened and a white faced Kate beckoned him urgently. Popping out of the car with kit in hand, Donnach hurried to her and touched her shoulder with concern. "What happened, Kate?" he asked. She shook her head wordlessly, in shock Donnach assessed, and pointed in the house.
He nodded and with a last reassuring pat walked in. "Jaime?" he called, pausing in the hallway.
"Kitchen." Was the gruff response. Donnach detected a strained note to his voice and hurried over. Reaching the kitchen doorway and looking in, the medic saw Jaime kneeling on the fake linoleum beside a seemingly unconscious blond.
"Who is he?" Donnach asked as he knelt too and began checking for pulse at a limp wrist. Assessing with his eyes he saw little blood and a hand shaped bruise on the left arm. The person, whoever he was, lay on his back and Donnach saw his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. Broken rib perhaps?
Leaning over his head, Donnach noted distantly that he wasn't a bad looking fellow and somewhat recognizable from somewhere, he listened at the lips. Raspy, quick exhalations warmed his earlobe and Donnach began gently feeling the arms.
"Cub." Jaime abruptly said. Donnach paused in his appraisal and looked up.
"Excuse me?" he asked, stunned if what he heard from Jaime was correct. Jaime set his jaw and stood.
"He's Cub. From SAS camp." He reaffirmed, folding his arms and steadily looked out the kitchen window. Donnach turned back to the blond, Cub, and saw it. Jaime was telling the truth or there was an eerily similar look alike of Cub in the world. In Jaime's kitchen.
Kate appeared in the doorway, still deathly pale but able to speak now. "Is—is he okay?" she asked quietly.
"I'm still trying to figure that out. He looks more okay that he could be, but he might have a broken rib or two." Donnach was wary to feel up Cub's chest, if he really did have broken ribs he wasn't going to be the one to compressed them and puncture a lung if that wasn't already done. "Might I ask how he came to be in your kitchen?"
Kate nodded and crossed the room to sit stiffly in a chair, hugging herself and staring at the prone man lying on her kitchen floor as she responded. "I was heating some water in the kettle to make tea for Jaime and I…someone—he—knocked on the French doors so frantically. He looked so afraid and desperate I—I had to let him in, he gasped something out and collapsed on the floor." She looked away and into Donnach's eyes, clearly fighting back tears. "I called for Jaime and he called you immediately then we got him on his back carefully as we could. I went to the door to wait for you and Jaime, uhm, Jaime stayed with him." Donnach nodded and offered her a mild smile.
"Thank you, Kate." He looked at Jaime, who stood still with a shuttered expression. "Why don't you get Kate somewhere comfortable, yeah? I'll call the hospital and—"
"No." Jaime spoke gruffly. "Call Ben." Donnach frowned.
"Why? We've got to get him medical attention as soon as possible and—"
Jaime interrupted him again, authority clear in his voice. "Call. Ben." Then he was ushering Kate out of the room and left Donnach frowning in the kitchen. With a sigh and an apology to the unconscious Cub, Donnach grabbed his cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed Ben's number.
It took two rings for the MI6 agent to pick up, sounding harried. "Yes?"
"Cub in is Jaime's kitchen unconscious and I was told to call you, any idea?" Donnach relayed the situation apologetically and there was a second pause on the other end.
"I'll be right there." The line went dead and Donnach pulled the phone from his ear to stare at it with a frown of consternation. Shaking his head, he wasn't going to get anywhere pursuing his confusion, Donnach returned his attention to Cub.
Gently shaking his shoulder the medic tested his level of unconsciousness. "Wolf should have known to wake you and keep you awake," he muttered under his breath. Cub groaned under his touch and was prevented from shifting by a strong grip on Donnach's part, eyes fluttered open and stared hazily up at Donnach.
"Wha—?" Cub slurred blearily. Donnach exhaled in relief, the kid—no, man—wasn't in a coma. There was one worry to check off the list.
"It's okay, help is coming." He said reassuringly, falling back on his basics back when he was greenhorn recruit, "I need you to tell me your name and what day it is. Can you do that?" Cub had begun to drift and snapped back as attentively as he was able to at the question.
"Ahlesss…" he murmured sleepily in a fuzzy tone. "Aless Rah…derrr." He blinked slowly and attempted to focus his eyes on Donnach's. "Yer not…Wolfff." Donnach sighed and resisted the urge to shake the man by the shoulders.
"The date, Alex, can you tell me the date?" he pressed, filing the fact that Cub knew he was in Jaime's house for later. Donnach was beginning to suspect that Cub had been drugged or at least suffered from acute head trauma to be responding the way he was.
Cub's head began to loll to the side and Donnach caught the cheek opposite him with a palm and levered him back. A sloppy grin pasted itself on Cub's face. "The…day-tuh—" he paused and a frown quickly formed as he appeared to Donnach to be thinking. "Ah, uh…Ah thin-k…Ah thin-k ish Wezzday?"
Donnach nodded. "Yes, good, it's Wednesday. Do you remember what happened to you?" now that he was sure Cub hadn't lost any basic senses Donnach was concerned with keeping him awake until Ben arrived.
Another grin spread over Cub's face and he closed his eyes. "Ah 'membe…Ah 'member…" he trailed off and Donnach shook him gently to open his eyes.
"Remember what, Alex?" he asked. "What do you remember?"
"He remembers that he was getting wasted in a bar." Ben answered from the doorway. Donnach looked up.
"Ah, Ben, you're here, I think he has a broken rib or two and—did you say bar?" he interrupted himself and looked back down at Cub, who sucked in a shallow breath and released it quickly with a rasp.
Ben knelt beside the medic and touched Cub's shoulder. "Alex," he said gently. The blond blinked up at him owlishly, recognition wafting across the haze in his eyes.
"Behhhn," Cub murmured with a small frown. "It hurtsss…" Donnach watched in confusion as Ben stood with a sigh and offered him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, Don, he received a bit of bad news yesterday and disappeared to go, I know now, to a bar, without informing anyone of his…plans." He frowned down at Cub as he spoke. "He'd just recently learned where Jaime lived so I called to ask him to tell me if he showed up."
"And he did." Donnach supplied mildly. Ah, that was what all the signs pointed to. He'd never thought to consider drunkenness.
Ben nodded. "Correct," he patted the medic on the shoulder. "Thanks for taking care of him, probably got into a bar fight, the dolt." Donnach shook his head with a murmured 'No problem' and Ben continued. "I'll just take him off your hands then, get him checked out at the headquarters. Good day, Don." He smiled cheerily and knelt again to carefully hoist the blond into his arms and departed.
Donnach just stood there, feeling like he didn't understand any of what just happened. "I'll uh, I'll just go then." He muttered to himself and walked, more drifted really, back down the hallway to his car. On the way Jaime bid him farewell, receiving a lackadaisical goodbye in turn, and before he quite realized it Donnach was standing in the doorway to his own home.
Shaking his head to clear it and heading to the kitchen, the medic heaved a sigh and rubbed his aching forehead. "I need some tea."
Disclaimer in the first chapter, thank you very much.
Thanks for reading! I love how many alerts and favorite I got! But...I do hold a very special place in my heart for my reviewers...hint...hint. Nooooo, I'm just kidding! I don't need reviews! Who needs reviews? I mean, they are definitely not the way for a writer to have incentive to give more...chapters...sooner...(My English teacher would hit me if he knew how many periods I was inserting.)
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