The wind was wet with a mix of spray and rain as it hit the teenager in the face. He was mesmerised by the dark grey swell of the Atlantic Ocean. Considering he had only been here for less than two weeks he had observed the three exits to their underground prison. Only there was nowhere to escape to except certain death, if you chanced the sea or stayed out to die of exposure. The guards did not need to play hunter, preferring to stay dry and warm themselves. In the cliffs, the teenager could just make out the nests of the gulls, kittiwakes, puffins and chuffs.

Alex shivered, his clothes already soaked through, but he did not want to go back. He was not crying, it was just the howl of the wind and the saltwater from the spray. How may lies had MI6 spun him? They had led him around like a prize bull, as his misadventures in France, Venice, Saint Dominics, even Kenya were their doing in not helping or believing him, moving him like a chess piece and driving him to this hell. He could not help but replay the shock of his life at lunch. Yassen was alive, sitting eating and completely emotionless at the arrival of John's son. The assassin imprisoned after surviving Cray's bullet. The fifteen year old's shirt was still unbuttoned from his show and tell, the scar from Nice on his side, proving to Cossack this was the real deal not Grief's not so perfect imitation. He wiped his face, knowing the Russian had seen his assassination scar as well, just above his heart, so had everyone else.

He sat down in the heather and watched the storm increase in intensity. Nature matching his maelstrom of emotions. Alex being here proved he had failed on all levels. He was not an assassin for SCORPIA, he was not a schoolboy in Chelsea or San Francisco, nor was he the patriotic spy, the Stepford nephew wanted by Ian. The hate he had felt for his uncle's murderer no longer fuelled any desire for revenge. He only felt kinship for the killer and anger at Ian. The psychologist would probably recommend Broadmoor, Ashworth or Rampton for him, cause he was clearly nuts.

As the shivering stopped, the desire for sleep descended. Alex knew he either moved or died of exposure. He got up, but rather than run or stumble back to the face the music, he walked to the cliff edge. Another step to oblivion, when a dark shape tackled him to the ground.

"No fucking suicide's on my watch" was hissed as the teenager as his arms were pinned behind his back and restraints were attached to his wrists. " Fuck it Cub! Its not that bad. Better than Brecon, ain't it. For crying out loud, look at you! Snake is going to have a shit fit. He only just got you fit and well, now you pull this!"

Alex laughed hysterically, as he could not even die because of his status as 'kid' brother to the SAS nut jobs guarding him. He wanted to scream at Cobra that their silent assassin had murdered his uncle a week before he had been sent to Wales by Blunt. Only they would then see Cossack as the enemy and treat him accordingly, when he wasn't. He was Alex's sort of guardian angel in this topsy turns world of international espionage. All the teenager could do was beg, "Don't take me back. Please, just don't"

…

Alex stood still after Cobra had carried him like a sack of potatoes from the cliff. The corridor was next to the infirmary and the guards quarters. He was silent as he had nothing to say, his emotions under control once more, acting like he was made of stone as Cobra roughly cut off his sopping wet clothes and then manhandled him into the cell with only a thin mattress on the floor. He was left alone after the guard pushed him to the bare room, then threw in a blanket. Alex was not surprised that he was still wearing the wrist restraints.

The teenager sat on the stained mattress, shivering again as the room was fifteen degrees warmer than the storm force winds outside. He was tempted to do Tulip's bidding, just to get away from here. Facing asshats like the Grimaldi's was certain death anyway. He was too tired to ask or do anything, just curling into a foetal position and slept.

He woke groggily, like his limbs were made of lead, back in the hospital wing, under a pile of blankets and tied to the bed by limb restraints. Then the teenager noticed the other bed in the small infirmary was occupied.

Cossack had a heavily bandaged arm, as he turned to face Alex, softly whispering. "I am not SCORPIA's puppet anymore, if you are afraid I will follow through with their threats here, you are very much mistaken. We are both free of manipulation and lies as we have chosen not to bow to pressure. Blunt very much wanted me as his personal killer, using you as bait. They were aware that I strongly disapproved of them blackmailing you into compliance. He told me the truth about John, about you. I would kill Rothman myself for her lies. So, here we are at the edge of nowhere and I am not your enemy, little Alex. Perhaps, now we can be allies."

Alex said nothing in reply. The ball was in his court. Accept, be patient and use this respite to his own advantage. "You said you loved me?"

"I did and I do." Cossack said. "Your nurse is worried about you. So am I. I too lost hope at your age. Survival is not failure, Little Alex. We Russians know that surviving is patiently awaiting victory and vengeance."

Snake came into the room, aware that Alex was awake and staring at the other patient. The teenager then asked "What did Cossack do? Slip up on a banana peel?"

"He has an enflamed boil on his arm. I'm just about to lance it." The nurse was puzzled by Alex calling the assassin by a codename. "Do you know Cossack?"

Alex knew he could be truthful and play this two ways, because Cossack was a cold blooded killer and also his best chance of surviving all this marbles intact. "Yeah, he did not kill me and my foster sister when Cray ordered him too. That's how he was captured. I owe him my life. Sabina thinks he's a bastard, just not a total one." Alex wa sonly realising his imprisonment was games within games, as MI6 were observing this interaction, whether they fought or collaborated. Either way, both died here, MI6 got Alex back or they broke Cossack. Like Chess, he now had to think a way off this board, not as pawn to be discarded or sacrificed.

…..

"Look Snake, I had a blip. It was a one off. I told that psychologist not to come back and I meant it. I will talk to you, to Cobra, I promise. Its just MI6 told me Cossack died. Another big fat lie in a long line of them. I do not trust them to look out for my best interests. In fact, at the moment I trust Cossack more and I do not trust him in the slightest as I only survive as some sort of debt he has to my dead father and FYI my parent's died in 1987. Do the math, I know Cossack way better than my biological parents and my uncle was as much a liar as Blunt, Jones and Crawley and he died a week before I descended on Brecon. Tell that to your chums in K-unit."

…..