Hello again!

I apologize to the people who wanted this story to continue… I did have a vague outline of a plot line, but it took me a while to put it onto paper – er, Word document.

I also apologize for Lily's Mary Sue-ness in the last chapter. She was never going to live for that long anyway, so I decided, ah hell, why not.

I for the last time apologize for the OOC-ness. I suck at Horowitz writing style.

One last thing *groans* no I mean it this time. This is set 2 years after Eagle Strike, so Alex is 16.

DISCLAIMER: Alex, Yassen and Ben Daniels are still being rebelliously not mine. Damn fictional hot guys, they're all the same. Not mine.

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Yassen was thrown into the painfully white holding cell of MI6, and hit the floor hard. The tears had stopped long ago, once again replaced by the good old expressionless mask of his inner assassin.

He stood up, dusted himself off, and glared at his captors until they locked the door and walked away. Immediately he started searching the cell for the cameras he was sure existed in the walls, ceiling and possibly even floor.

After ten minutes search and no find, he sat down, mostly to conserve his energy, but also to plan an escape out of here.

And just as he'd figured out something – admittedly, not the best plan ever – the door opened.

In walked a severe looking woman in a grey pant suit who smelled of peppermint. Yassen glared at her and for a moment she stared forcefully back, before she looked away with a sigh. That caught him off guard for a moment – did she sound regretful? That didn't really fit with the cold personality every MI6 agent he'd seen had.

Alex wasn't cold, a part of him argued. He repressed that part of him immediately, his son's name sending anger and pain flashing through him. Of course his son had been named after the boy. Something in his child's eyes had been reminiscent of the too young operative…

"Gregorovitch," The woman said flatly.

"Jones, I presume," the former assassin returned.

A silence fell for a few moments, before Mrs. Jones continued.

"The child." Yassen looked up sharply. "He wasn't left at the house. He's in MI6 custody."

Anyone else would have wept with relief at this statement. But Yassen was an assassin at heart, through and through, so while he rejoiced at his child's safety inside, he kept his face studiously blank.

"At the moment, he is under the care of," she gave a grim smile, "Agent Daniels. Apparently the irony was lost on Mr. Blunt," she added dryly.

Yassen almost smiled. Almost.

"Was there any particular reason to name your child Alex?" the woman asked. He looked at her, than looked away. "I understand you met Agent Rider on a number of missions before your supposed death," she continued.

"He's good at what he does," Yassen replied, somewhat bitterly. "Tell me, have you managed to get him killed yet?"

Mrs. Jones refused to meet the assassin's eyes as she said, "Agent Rider was killed on a mission one year ago."

Silence fell for a moment, before a low snarl was heard.

"You bastards," he growled. "You sent a 15 year old child to his death. How can you live with yourselves?"

"We're British, Mr. Gregorovitch," she said coolly. "We move on."

And with that, the deputy head of MI6 left the grieving former assassin on his own in the painfully white holding cell.

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Damn. Sorry about killing Alex off – that was just always how I pictured this chapter to go down. I'll probably put another chapter up about Ben *squee!*, but don't hold your breath. I never really wanted to make this a multi shot.

Eh, que sera sera, c'est la vie.

Reviews are my inspiration at the moment, so they are once again muy apreciando!

--Fox