AN- Does anyone actually read this?

To those who do, this is chapter 7! Yaaayyy! It's almost one, and I'm uh, pretty energised as I usually am at night, so, you know. Here it is! A little shout out to Aardwolf who pointed out something I forgot to mention in the last chapter…I fixed it! So, here ya have it, luvs! Do enjoy!

Disclaimer- …I refuse to talk to idiots. Work it out.


Tom always made a habit of passing his old (or was it still? He hadn't heard from him in so long, though…) best-friend's house. Even now as he walked, hefting his bag further up his shoulders, he still didn't quite know why he did it. Eyes roving absently to the blue cloud strewn sky, he mused a little bitterly over why he made himself do it. Was it in the hopes that one day he'd see Alex coming out of the front door? That he'd knock and his cool eyed friend would pull the door open and agree to play footie with him? Or was it some form of renewing his faith that Alex was actually out there. That he hadn't been sucked into another elaborate scheme of which he (Alex had given him an envious look when he had told his blond friend that he didn't understand what Alex was trying to describe. It had only been quick- a flash of jealousy, and then it was gone. But Tom could always remember) never could understand. That Alex was still there.

Whatever the reason, he thought as he passed the house, peering at the well sized building and tidy garden, the curtains closed still, he wished that Alex would come and pull that door open one day. Pull it open, step into the sunshine and be…Alex. His friend.

Swallowing melancholy thoughts and forcing his feet to move from where he'd drifted to a distant eyed stop, he pushed a painful laugh, swinging his arms to clasp the back of his head as he walked to meet his friends for a game of football to practise for their next match.

Staying stuck in the folds and twists of time never did anyone any good.

"Hey, guys!" he yelled as he reached the football pitch, stirring his limbs into a jog, face cracking on a grin.

The huddle of teens waved back, but were swapping glances- Tom noticed that Dylan's face looked a little odd, and Elliot kept glaring at Ryan.

Grin wilting slightly, he slowed his jog as he approached them, glancing round at his friends with wary curiosity. "What's going on?" he asked as he stopped in amongst them, moving his eyes over them all- not all would meet his gaze. Frowning, a feeling of foreboding settled in his stomach as he folded his arms, still watching them for any clue of what was going on.

After Alex had left, he'd been accepted into a group of friends. Tom had never been a loner like Alex (Tom winced at the term, but knew that Alex viewed himself as such although it annoyed Tom when people would call him it) but had always had a steady stream of friends after the bullies that Alex took out got off of his back. But…the thought of just leaving Alex and joining up with another group of friends was unthinkable. Tom just knew that the friends he'd joined up with would not accept Alex as one of them- and though Tom at times wanted to, he knew he couldn't blame them for thinking like that.

Alex was nothing like them.

Alex was strange.

No, Tom thought sternly, Alex is different. And sadly, different is 'strange' and 'dangerous'.

But Alex always came to school looking more and more run down, more and more lost. At times, Tom thought he had caught Alex just staring dazedly at the other school children, amusement shining blue in his brown eyes- as if he was just watching but wasn't actually part of it.

"It's just Ryan," the voice jerked Tom out of his thoughts and he frowned at the slightly scowling, more nervous looking boy.

"Why, what's he said?" Narrowing his eyes, Tom let his football drop to the ground, restraining a soft sigh. It didn't look like they were going to be playing anytime soon.

"He said-"

"I'm not lying, Elliot!" Ryan finally blurted out, eyebrows lowered in what looked to Tom like frustrated rage.

Elliot pulled a face and made to continue when Dylan placed a hand on the teen's shoulder and tugged him back. Dylan's expression was difficult to pry apart (Alex would've been able to do it) and Tom squinted at him, face suspicious.

Dylan raised his hands. "It's nothing, Tom. We don't know yet. It's just Ryan's been telling us-"

"Alex is back!" Ryan snapped out.

What?

Scowling, hissing, the group of teens shoved at Ryan who glared back at them unrepentantly. "You weren't meant to tell him so soon, you idiot!"

Tom stared at the grass.

Alex was back.

Alex was back.

And he waited.

Waited for the excitement to stir inside him.

Waited for the grin to stretch across his face; to whoop and parade around the place, sprint straight back to Alex's (so empty, so lonely and cold) house and bang the door down, yelling for-

Why wasn't he feeling anything?

Dylan approached his unmoving friend slowly, his eyes careful. He knew that he and Alex had always had a deep friendship- one that was complicated to look at- it looked like both were propping the other one up- desperate not to let go lest they both fell into the hounds that snapped at their feet. "Hey, listen, mate. Ryan might be wrong, you know," he shrugged. "I didn't see him,"

Tom flinched.

And was that…hope stirring in his gut?

Hope that Alex was still in America?

Suddenly, guilt savaged him.

"It's not that!" he found himself snapping, rearing away from their misunderstood sympathies. He looked up, eyes wide and fingers digging into his palms just wishing that they could just go back to playing football. "I- I do want him to be here, it's just that it's so unexpected!" his vice was loud, loud to drown out the hisses of liar that huddled in his ears.

Shaking his head, seeing the sceptical expressions of his friends(did Alex still fit into that category?), he took another step backwards, eyes falling down to the football that sat obediently at his feet. "What did he say to you, Ryan?"

Ryan opened his mouth to answer the softly spoken question, glaring at those of his friends who still stubbornly refused to believe him until they had hard evidence up in front of them. "We just talked about stuff, you know. Nothing really pointed. He asked after you," here, Tom's heart jumped with something akin to glee and apprehension. "And he mentioned something his guardian,"

"His guardian?" Dylan frowned. "What happened to that lady- what was her name again?"

"Jack," Tom murmured, confusion keeping his voice soft.

"Yeah, that's-"

"Sorry I'm late, guys!"

The yell of Ewan as he ran over interrupted Ian's flow of conversation, and the teens turned to glare exasperatedly at the latecomer who slowed when he reached them, grin dropping slightly- an unconscious mimicry of what Tom had done earlier before.

"Guys?" Ewan called lamely stopping by them and glancing at them nervously, rubbing at his arms self-consciously.

"You're always late, Ewan!" Ian punched his friend good naturedly in the side, who mock winced and pulled back.

"Yeah, yeah- but guys!" he threw up his arms excitedly, eyes shining behind his glasses. "Guess what?" grinning, he leant forward conspiringly, though his voice was hoarse, straining on a thrilled shout. "St Donald's parks woods were set on fire- they're saying it was a terrorist bombing gone wrong!"

The boys immediately burst into speculative comments, loud and giddy at the sound of new news.

Tom felt sick as he pulled away, eyes dropping to his forgotten football on the ground.

All the doubt he'd had over Ryan's comment vanished.

Alex Rider was back for sure.


Alex's heart was thumping as he handled the box, the thump thump thump of his heartloud and erratic in his ears.

Glancing once again up to the closed door of his room, he deemed it safe to open (my uncles. Ian's) box.

With trembling fingers and tight breaths, he pulled the lid carefully off of the box (don't break it…carefully…slowly) and placed it gently onto his bed, hands reaching in to pull out the papers inside, bound together by that old piece of string.

And- oh.

They smelt like him.

Somehow, Alex found himself with the papers pressed against his nose, eyes shut, breathing in the smell of Ian.

And Alex couldn't tell whether he missed him or just missed having him.

It was hard to tell nowadays.

The papers tickled his face, and slowly, breathing in softly, he pulled the papers away from his face and unwound the rough string off of them, eyes bright and wholly intense on the papers as he peeled the first one off.

Heart thumping erratically in his chest, he traced the figures and words on the page.

Frowning, he lifted up the page and placed it on the bed, looking at the one underneath.

And the one underneath that one.

And underneath that.

And underneath that.

Frustrated, he slammed the papers on his bed, pushing a hand through his hair.

He didn't understand!

What did it mean? Growling softly under his breath, he screwed his eyes shut, leaning back onto his bed, breaths sharp because he couldn't understand and, oh Ian, he couldn't under-(Snapping voices, tugging. "It's not difficult, Alex! You just need to listen!" but he was listening and nhe tried to tell him that but he was just "Don't make excuses. Sit there and don't mve until you get it," but he was tired and lonely and he just-) he couldn't under- and what- what was he going to do if he couldn't-

Take a deep breath and look at them again. Don't waste time.

Slowly, he removed his hands from gripping at his hair, letting them slide down to his lao, breathe in pendulum steady. That was right. Look at them again.

Almost robotically, Alex lifted up the pages again and was about to flick through them when something fell out and landed onto his lap.

For a moment, Alex only stared at the sheet of brown paper sat butterfly patient in his lap. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and picked it up, gently, as if it would burst into dust at a brush of his finger tips.

Placing the wad of papers down onto his bed and picking up his new puzzle, Alex flipped it round, a waxen frown smoothed in between his brows. Carefully, he peeled the folded piece of paper over, and read carefully what was written on it in spidery black- now blueing due to age- font and read it in his head.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.
Up got Jack, and home did trot
As fast as he could caper
He went to bed and bound his head
With vinegar and brown paper.

Leaning back, frown still in place, Alex contemplated over the sudden turn in events.

Well, that's typical, isn't it? Suspicion hissed, scowling and narrowing it's eyes at the paper. So typically movie –style. You just happen to be rooting round a bunch of papers and then- oops!- out pops the sudden piece of paper that could just be the answer to everything you've ever needed. Yeah right.

It could be vital evidence! Luck spoke up defensively.

Or it could be a trap, Paranoia whispered lowly, eyes darting around as she huddled closer to Alex's ear. A trap. You know they all want you. You know they could-

Or it could be Ian. You know what Ian was like. Reason interrupted loudly.

No one knew what Ian was like, Doubt retorted.

We need to decipher it. Reason kept going. It could give us some knowledge that we'd never know if we didn't read it!

Maybe it's safer to not know…Doubt whispered softly.

I think you should destroy it. Suspicion shrugged. Just saying.

They all want you, you know that, Alex. They want to hurt you. Get rid of it and run. You don't know what-

Keep it.

Destroy it.

Decipher it.

Alex snapped back from his thoughts.

Blinking up the ceiling, he steadied his breathing, eyes flickering back to the paper clenched in his hand. Loosening his vice-like grip, he shifted.

Decipher it.

He read the first line aloud (his mouth didn't struggle over the word 'Jack'. I didn't) and soft- like smoke.

Jack.

That had significance.

That had vital significance, didn't it? But why would Ian write about (red hair, fun and bubbles and those scrambled eggs that just made up everything she was. Silly and small and so-so-)Jack? Why would he-

Why are you just assuming that this 'Jack' is that Jack? It could be a code for something else, you know.

That was right.

The voice was right.

He needed to look beyond the obvious- look beyond that little childlike entity that huddled in the far corner of his mind, the one covered in cobwebs and long a go deserted hopes of crumbling sandstone. He needed to look beyond its crying voice, the voice that called out in china cracked and willowy sobs of Jack, Jack, why did you leave me? Why did you- he needed to look ahead. Past that. Forward.

Alex dropped his eyes, briefly closing them.

But the future was so scary.

Mentally shaking those thoughts off, Alex determinedly looked back down at the sheet of paper in his hands, re-reading the poem.

If he was to- if he was to just assume ("Assumptions are dangerous, Alex. Never believe you know what needs to be known. Keep an open eye, wary, careful and steady,") for a few moments that perhaps, perhaps this 'Jack' (the fool. Falling down a hill) was his (never yours, Alex. Never yours) Jack…that maybe, just maybe-

("Stop faltering." He snapped. "Quench your emotions and focus on the task at hand. They're a distraction, Alex. How many times have I told you to stop holding onto pointless-"0

Ok, OK! He got it! He'd just- he'd lock it away. He would. He needed to.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.

What did it mean? If this Jack was (oh, Jack, why did you have to go? Why did you leave me?) his Jack, then who was the Jill?

He didn't know a Jill- did he? For a moment he went through his memories before gratefully tugging away from the graveyard place and shaking his head softly. No, he didn't know a Jill. Then who would Jill be?

Forget on the significance of the rhyme. Like this part 'went up the hill to fetch a pail of water'. Is the 'pail of water' significant of anything?

Water.

It was everywhere.

Up his nose, in his eyes and- no, please no- it was in his lungs and he couldn't breathe! Couldn't breathe because it was absolutely everywhere and he couldn't-

Next line.

"'Jack fell down and broke his crown,'" Alex traced the words with a shy finger, imagining Ian's wrist moving up and down to write on the paper. Fixing his mind back to the matter in front of him, he mulled over the words. When nothing came, he tried another line, and then another.

Perhaps the significance lies not in the names, but in the words.

The voice was not hopeful (never hopeful. Hope's too dangerous. Too tangling and sharp) but held a careful amount of certainty, so Alex listened to it, leaning further over the paper to try and work out just why he felt it was so important.


"Is Cub still in his room?" Wolf asked as Eagle stepped softly down the stairs.

The lanky man nodded, sliding onto the vacant seat in the living room and accepting the biscuit Fox offered him. "Yeah, quiet as a mouse,"

"That's Cub," Snake replied softly.

Murmuring vague agreement, K-Unit stared off into space, lost as usual with thoughts of their odd charge.

When they had got in, Cub seemed in an odd rush to run straight up to his room, and Snake had to physically hold him back to treat the bullet graze on his forearm which had gone forgotten through all the excitement that had been going on.

Nearly being blown up tended to have that effect on people.

Even then, the kid had refused to let go of the box he suddenly had in his possession, a sort of fanatic light in them that almost growled at them whenever they got too close to it.

As soon as Snake had finished and given the all clear, Cub had turned and sprinted up to his room.

"Who of you believe that Alex really tripped up with that lady?" the demand was sudden and unexpected- but not a question that any of them hadn't asked before. Nervously scanning his teammate's faces, Snake folded his arms close to his chest and tapped his foot on the carpeted floor- an agitated tic that he'd always had.

"What are you trying to say?" Wolf said sharply, tensing his jaw and sitting up straighter.

Snake turned his eyes onto his leader. "What I meant." he clarified a little cryptically. Sighing at Wolf's upgraded glare, he rephrased himself. "Do you really believe that Cub, quiet, mysterious, careful Cub would just so happen to trip up a lady with a gun to his head and not get shot?" his lilac eyes retained their cutting edge to them again. "Well, do you?"

Wolf stared down into his glass of Ribena (no point hiding it now, was there?). Truth be told, he'd been rolling the same struggling query about his head too but he didn't want to say it. Saying it shone light on it. And sometimes, sometimes he thought Cub looked better in the shadows where the darkness masked his features.

"I don't know," Eagle began cautiously, fingers rubbing crumbs from his trousers. "It's…hard to tell with Cub," he thought back to when they were in the forest running from their pursuers. Cub hadn't seemed…bothered. If you weren't there, and only looked at his face, you'd think the kid was only grudgingly playing a game of hide-and-seek. "I don't- I can't quite…" screwing up his face, he tore the words out. "I don't understand him. He doesn't seem to make much sense,"

"So you think he didn't trip," Snake prompted with crayon violet impatience colouring his words.

"I didn't say that," Eagle said defensively, pressing his back into the couch and holding up his hands. "All I'm saying is that I don't think we should cancel out any options before we get to know him,"

"If we get to know him," Snake muttered darkly.

"Of course we'll get to know him," Wolf snapped, raking his dark grey eyes across them all. "But we're not going to get to know him better by sitting here and throwing thought against a brick wall. We need to do something," Wolf had always been a man of action. If there was a problem; he'd get up and solve it. He wasn't the sort to simper and throw candyfloss suggestions gently around the place- and he knew his men were the same as him too. Cub had just driven them into a momentary rut; his own mystery was driving his loyal men to tiptoe about the place like nursery maids.

"Do what?" Fox asked- of whom had been (yet again) strangely quiet ever since they'd gotten back from the Royal & General.

Wolf fixed him with a sharp stare to which he was pleased to see made the man fidget. "We ask," he held up a hand to silence their loud complaints. "No," he snapped. "We give him an opportunity. We'll ask him if we have something we want to know. If that doesn't work, then we start trying to piece together the things he or any other people let drop."

"How are we going to do that?" Eagle asked, his voice tinged with grudging enthusiasm, Snake also watching with something very close to satisfaction and Fox…Fox's expression was harder to unravel. But Wolf had trained with him for a long time, so he could see the tension in his face along with the curiosity.

Wolf smiled and held up a dramatic finger. "We listen,"

Eagle, Snake and Fox waited for more.

Wolf's finger drooped slightly and he pulled back into his chair. "What?"

"What more do we have to- wait- was that it?" Snake crumpled his brow at him.

Wolf gritted his teeth. "What more do you want? Me to get up on the table and start waving a banner with Cub's face on it? Huh?"

The burst of laughter that flooded from each of their mouths lessened the heavy atmosphere, and for a while at least, helped to make their thoughts and concerns over Cub seem a little less daunting then they were before.


"Where are you going?"

Tom turned to face Ewan, the speaker and shrugged slightly, standing up from where he'd sat on the damp grass, tugging listlessly at the green blades as the rest of his friends chattered about the Fire Conspiracy as they had now dubbed it.

"About, you know. I need to get back and do Mr Linfords homework," he muttered more to the ground than to Ewan.

Ewan squinted up at him, holding a hand to his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun. "Really?" he sounded doubtful.

Tom hid a wince. He didn't blame him. The mere thought of him, Tom, doing his homework 3 weeks before the actual deadline was laughable.

Luckily, Ewan seemed as if he was itching to get back to the conversation that had now turned into a heated debate over whether or not aliens were involved in the bombings (courtesy of Gerald Miller- alien and supernatural happenings extraordinaire) and so nodded quickly, smiled once, and then turned back to yell his own side to the conversation.

Waving with false heart to the friends that weren't so absorbed as to not see him leaving, Tom walked away; quickening his pace as he got past the tree line that would hide him from their view.

What are you doing? Some voice yelled at him- his own, he knew.

Snapping at the accusing voice to shut up, he looked both ways before jogging across the road that led to his destination.

I have to do this! It's important! After that, he ignored the voice, leaving it to fume inside his head.

Finally, he reached his destination.

Alex's house stood imperiously in front of him, glassy eyes gazing down at the small insect beneath it with a perilous gaze.

Swallowing, steadying his galloping heartbeat, he swung the (it still creaked) gate open and stepped up the path and up the (still layered in thin moss) stairs. Licking his dry lips, wincing as they stung angrily at him, he slowly reached out a fist, scrunched up his courage- and knocked on the door.

And waited.

And waited.

Tom did not breathe a sigh of relief when no one came to the door.

He didn't know what was wrong with him today. Shaking his head and taking a step back to peer up into those furious eyes of the house; Tom scratched the back of his head, doing his best to ignore the phantom ache in his arm as he did.

If Alex was back, then where was he?

He's probably just gone out. Alex is like that- can't sit still for ten seconds, Tom tried to muster some amount of warmth to the thought, but felt nothing but a slight numbness. Hesitating by the door, he frowned at it, wondering just where his friend was. And why he hadn't called him.

Called him.

Tom's eyes widened. That was it!

Dropping his bag on the floor, he leant over it, muttering under his breath as he dug through it to try and get to his- there!

Like an Olympian, he held up his phone triumphantly before dropping to sit on Alex's front porch steps, his fingers scrolling through the menu and into contacts until he hit that one name- the first on his list.

Alex Rider.

His fingers twitched towards the ring button before he hesitated, doubt shading his eyes.

Would Alex still have his phone?

Tom's fingers jerked impatiently towards the ring button but he held off a little longer. Alex was, after all, a genius for losing things. He was also the most paranoid person that Tom had ever met. Perhaps he'd lost his phone or gotten rid of it to avoid being tracked.

Or to avoid speaking to him.

He never even said goodbye, something (his voice) whispered bitterly.

And suddenly, Tom knew just why he was so reluctant to see Alex.

Alex had just left. Just left him- Tom, his best friend- just left him. No words. No call. Nothing. And it hurt. They were meant to be friends. Sure, he knew that some things in Alex's life were insurmountable even to him, but the fact that Alex had just (abandoned) left him hurt. It really hurt.

So maybe he was justified in not calling him. Tom lowered his phone, eyes glaring at his knees. Maybe it served Alex right if he came back from America and Tom didn't go and talk to him. See how much he liked being ignored. Maybe he deserved it.

But Tom wasn't like that.

He lifted the phone up again, a sigh escaping from his lips, eye still doubtful but heart determined. He'd been hurt plenty of times. Friends who lied about being friends, bullies, parents who just wouldn't give him the time of day- and now Alex, his best friend supposedly abandoning him (man, he sounded like a dog from a Dogs Trust advert)- but he got up because that was who he was. Loyal to the bone, just like a bouncy ball. Throw me down and watch me bounce up higher than before.

Even if Alex acted like an idiot to him, they were still friends.

No matter what.

He pressed ring.


He went to bed and bound his-

Rring! Rring! Rring! Rring!

Alex's head shot up, on high alert.

What was that-?

Rring! Rring!

His…phone.

Alex physically shrank back from the noise, eyes wide as he pressed himself away from the sound, eyes swinging wildly round the room. He needed to turn it off! Make it stop!

"This phone looks pretty good, Al,"

Alex looked up and almost choked on his milkshake. "That's not a phone!" he spluttered, backing away from the…thing held loosely in between Jack's slender fingers. "That's a…monster!"

Jack pursed her lips at him, though he saw fun dancing in her eyes like twin fireflies. "This is a state-of-the-ark phone! Many people have sold their souls to the devil to attain it!" she said melodramatically, gesturing at it with wild waves of her arms.

"Jack," Alex kept his voice patient. "If you get me that phone, I'll throw it down the stairs and put the pieces in your scrambled eggs,"

"It's only £30," she wheedled, choosing to ignore Alex's joking threat.

Alex took a step forward, ever curious. He laughed.

Thumping him in the arm, she glared at him. "What?"

"That's monthly, Jack. It's a contract phone," he said, grinning and ducking from her swinging fist.

Jack gaped at the thing in her hands, shoving it back from where she got it from as if it was on fire. "For that hideous thing?" she near shrieked. "What's the world coming to?"

Alex spluttered in laughter as Jack became wound up in one of her infamous rants, and tried to stifle them as a disgruntled store assistant told them to either stop making so much noise or leave.

Nose in the air, Jack had firmly grabbed up Alex's arm and dragged him out of the shop, muttering about uppity store assistants and monstrously overpriced phones.

The next day, Alex had found the monster wrapped up in gold wrapping paper under his bed.

"I got it from Ebay," Jack grinned when he asked. She held up a hand £15.67! Not bad, huh?"

Alex never did get round to throwing it down the stairs.

And now he wished he had thrown it down the stairs.

Because- oh help him- he didn't want to remember!

Where had he put it?

Head swimming with barely restrained memories, he pushed under his bed, barely away of his gasping breaths as his hand swiped for his bag and yanked it out.

"Stop it, stop it," he whispered feverishly as he dug through the contents of the black bag, hand finally closing around the heavy mechanism. Pulling it out viciously, he made a move to throw it against the wall (he should've gotten rid of it. Should've let go of it. Too many memories. A dangerous link to his past. He should've-) when his eyes caught the name of who was ringing him.

Tom.

His friend Tom.

His friend.

And somehow, he found the phone pressed against his ear and his voice coming out softly.

"Hello?"


"Hello?"

To be extremely honest (which Tom was to an almost painful degree) Tom hadn't expected Alex to pick up. So when that soft (Alex), detached (Alex) and undoubtedly curious (oh Alex) bled through the phone and into his ear- he- for once in his life- lost all idea of what to say- mind going completely blank.

For a moment, he didn't know how long, he sat there just staring ahead of him, still sat on the stairs to Alex's old house.

"Hello?" the voice (Alex) tried again.

Snapping out of his daze, he sat up straighter and cleared his throat, and clutching the phone with an almost scared intensity to his ear. "Hey, Alex," his voice cracked and he hurriedly attempted to clear it.

There was a pause at the other end of the line before Alex's voice (so quiet.So calm. Didn't he feel anything that he'd just left him again?) came through again. "Hey, Tom." Another pause. "Are you…OK?"

"Am I OK?" Tom felt the words burst out before he could stop them. "What about you? There was an explosion yesterday, was it you?"

Another uncertain pause. "I'm still talking to you, right?"

And he still had that sense of humour. Except it was slower than before; a little more hesitant. "Don't be stupid- you know what I mean," but that didn't matter. And he didn't understand just why he was talking to Alex like he'd never gone. Talking to him like his best friend hadn't just abandoned him. But he couldn't seem to get the words out to express what he felt. Not here. Not over the phone. "Where are you?" he demanded.

"I'm…somewhere else. You'd better move from the steps of my house, Tom. The neighbours already think I'm pretty weird,"

Tom tried to quench his thudding heartbeat. It wasn't normal how Alex could do that- just know where he was. "Nah," he forced his voice to come out lightly, carelessly. "They like me, I helped mow their lawns last summer,"

"Hm. So did I," and the voice of his friend seemed a little warmer than when he'd first called him.

"Yeah, but I've just got a personality that people like- friendly, you know." And even though he wanted to scowl, to shout at his friend, he found himself smiling. Alex just had that effect on people.

"If you say so," the voice mused (not quite Alex, something else. A little more…).

"So? Where are you then?" Tom reverted back on track, voice harsh. It was tricky getting an answer out of Alex. He could avoid giving answers like nobody's business, and had the amazing propensity to change topics without you even realising he had.

"I'm just…listen, this isn't-"

"I'm coming over. Give me your address," his fingers absently chased an insect away from the wall it was trying to climb up.

"Tom, I can't-"

"Come help with dinner Cu- whoa! Who're you talking to? And what're all those papers?"

Tom frowned at the unfamiliar voice.

Who was that?


Alex smiled gently as Tom spoke, still as rowdy and loud as ever.

The smile slipped as he asked to come over just when he thought he'd averted that line of topic. Eyes dropping to the papers on his bed, he tried to dissuade his friend (you sure about that, Alex? Do you really want a friend? After all, you're not the best friend someone could have, now, are you?) from that line. But Tom was stubborn (he knew that. Had he really forgotten?) and wouldn't give up.

"Tom," he tried again. "I can't-"

His head snapped round as the door to his room swung inwards and Fox strode in with a cracker in his mouth. "Come help with dinner, Cu-whoa!" the man did a double take when he saw Alex with a phone pressed to his ear. Gesturing wildly at the device and scattering crumbs everywhere, he pointed. "Who're you talking to?" his eyes caught sight of the papers scattered about Alex's bed. "And what're all those papers?"

"Nothing," he found himself snapping- way out of his comfort zone. Surreptitiously, he shifted his hand to try and grab up the papers, but Fox wasn't having any of it.

Striding forward, he bent down to lift one up.

"They're mine!" Alex said sharply (his voice did not go higher at the end. His words did not tremble) as Fox's fingers brushed against the paper. "Mine!"

Fox stared at the teen, eyebrows furrowed, fingers tickling the paper. "Who are you talking to?"

"Tom," was the short and brusque reply, Alex's eyes fixed on the hand that was so close to Ian's papers.

"Who's Tom?" Snake and Eagle popped their heads round the corner and then stared at Alex who was on the phone.

Alex clenched his teeth. He was on the phone. They were gaping at him as if he'd grown some sort of fungal growth on his ear that was now asking them whether the moon was made out of cheese.

"Your room's a tip, Cub!" and great. Now Wolf was here too. The whole crew. "If we were back at the barracks, Serg would have your guts for breakfast!"

"So, who're you talking to?" Eagle urged again, eager to hear. "A girl?"

"Said her name's Tom,"

"That probably means, Fox, that it's a boy," Snake said slowly.

"No, I'm pretty sure you can get girls called Tom,"

"Where on earth did you-"

"Tidy up your room, Cub!"

"What are these papers?"

And Alex could hardly think because they were all talking and it was noisy and he couldn't think and now Tom was asking him who they were and they were trying to look at his papers and his room was tidy ("Come on, Al! Just, you know, let go a bit! Relax. Mess your room up a little. Please? Like a normal teenager?") it was never messy and he just-

"Stop it!"

K-Unit turned to Alex who sat on the floor, eyes oddly glazed.

"Just, please, I'm on the phone," the look was gone, replaced by irritation.

K-Unit stifled a grin.

That was the most teenager-ish thing they'd ever heard Cub say.

"Who are you talking to, though?" Eagle just wouldn't let it go.

"I've told you. His name's Tom. Tom Harris," the reply was cold.

Eagle raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't mean much to me,"

Alex frowned at him. What more did he want? A description?

"Is he a family member, friend…?" Snake prompted slowly, much like a shepherd would urge a sheep with a stick.

Was he a…

Friend.

"Yeah," he muttered, ignoring Tom on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah to what?" Wolf asked impatiently.

Does it matter? "Friend," he said quickly, rushing the word so he didn't have to taste it. "And no, Tom," he turned away from the watching K-Unit, desperately trying to swallow the fear that wriggled in him from saying that one word. "You can't come round,"

"Sure he can," Wolf spoke up quickly. Way too quickly.

Alex's eyes moved on to him. "Why?"

"Because he's your friend," Fox tried to explain gently, patiently.

"You don't know that!" he snapped.

K-Unit frowned at the kid, confused by Cub's seeming desperation to not have this "Tom" person round. "You just told us that he was," Eagle tried to figure it out, talking slowly.

"Give him the address. And tell him to keep it to himself. In fact, where is he? It'd be safer if we went to go and pick him up," Wolf wasn't giving in. If they had this "Tom" round, then who knew what they could find out from him?

"No," Cub reared back from them, something glassy flitting through the depths of his eyes. "I don't want you to-" he flinched away from the phone as Tom yelled into it.

"I'M OUTSIDE ALEX'S OLD HOUSE!"

K-Unit winced.

Tom definitely had a mouth on him.

"Good, then we'll go and pick him up," Wolf turned and pointed to Snake. "You, with me,"

Alex sat up, eyes wide. "You can't go!"

But Wolf wasn't listening, and Snake only shot him a puzzled look before following after Wolf's retreating back.

Alex scrambled up, desperation fuelling his movements. And he didn't care if he looked desperate. He didn't care if he looked weak. Tom couldn't come here! Tom couldn't see him! No, he couldn't see Tom.

Running to his door, he followed after them, hopping down the stairs. "Don't!" he latched onto Snake's arm, pulling at him like he was a little kid, and pleading ("beg for it, Alex. If you want it, then beg for it.") because he just couldn't see him and-

Snake attempted to detach the childish grip from his arm. "Hey, hey, Cub!" he attempted to soothe the begging and pleading boy. "It's OK,"

But it wasn't OK and he didn't get why people kept lying to him. And now Eagle was trying to yank him off of Snake and Fox was trying to placate him and Wolf looked oddly concerned- but he didn't need it! But suddenly he was pulled off ("you're not strong enough, Alex. You're weak. You're-") and they were going to get Tom and they were going to-

"I'm not allowed to see him!"

He didn't know where the words came from. Didn't know what made them come out- but they did.

Eagle's grip slackened on his arm.

And Eagle just couldn't help it. "What; like some sort of Romeo and Juliet?"

The door slammed shut- Snake and Wolf gone.


Tom stared at the phone dazedly, the tone dial humming in his hand.

Alex didn't want to…see him?

The idiot hadn't even thought of turning to phone off.

Unless he wanted you to hear, something whispered at him.

Doubtfully, he twisted his head to the side. But that's not how Alex worked. His methods were unorthodox- yes- dangerous- yes – but never…cold.

That was a vicious way of doing things.

That wasn't how Alex worked.

In the end, he sat thinking about the ocean-like matter until he heart a car pull up right outside Alex's old gate.

Looking up, oddly nervous, he watched as the window wound down and a blond-

His heart leapt.

"You coming?" voice lilted with a Scottish accent.

His heart dropped.

"Who're you?" Slowly, he stood up and moved towards the gate, swinging his bag over his shoulder and lightly tapping his football along the ground towards the car.

"Tom, right?" the Scotsman had a friendly face, and he gestured towards the car door. "We're Alex's new guardians."

The breath left Tom's chest and he nearly staggered. "New guardians?" his head was spinning, barely aware that his mouth was forming the words.

The blond man was watching him carefully, and Tom attempted to steady his now pale face, aware that everything with Alex began with the word "secret" and ended in "secret". "Yeah, why?"

"I was just-" but his mouth was suddenly dry, the sun suddenly much hotter. He swallowed fruitlessly. "It's just- I just…"

The man smiled, noticing his inner dilemma. "Later. Come on, get in, Alex is waiting for you,"

Tom couldn't hold back the snort at that as he leant down to sweep up his football and clamber into the back of the car.

"So, you never told me your names," Tom clicked the door shut behind him and pulled on his seatbelt.

"Roman," the driver grunted, his grey eyes flickering up to the car mirror to meet his briefly.

"And I'm Corey- nice to meet you,"

Tom muttered an acknowledgment, turning to stare outside the window. "So," he began after a few moments of slightly uncomfortable silence on what Tom knew to be only on his part. "What's Alex done this time?" he kept his voice casual though fierce curiosity burned right through him.

Snake looked back at the boy who sat still staring outside the window, not buying his casual tone for a minute. But, he decided to play along anyway. "We're not too sure, actually," he replied amiably, hiding a smile as Tom turned in obviously forced nonchalance to look at him. "We're only his temporary guardians,"

For some reason, this seemed to put the small teenager at ease, and his shoulders relaxed minimally. "Oh," he murmured.

"Yeah. Apart from that, I'm afraid we can't give you anymore infor-"

"He didn't want to see me." He didn't quite know why he'd blurted it out to these strangers, but he felt for some odd reason that they had a mutual connection. Alex just…did that. He linked people together, people who would never cross paths in an ordinary life. Linked them together with some invisible cord. "I heard him. Is he OK? I mean, I haven't seen him for ages. He went to go to America, you see," he ignored Snake who had twisted round in his seat to watch him. Fingers pressing hard into the cold glass, he watched as his breath fogged up against it, eyes fixed purposefully on the world behind the glass. Was this what Alex felt like when he was forced to attempt to live a normal semblance of life?

"He just suddenly upped and left for America- no warnings, no goodbye- no nothing. Just, gone. We were best mates," he was babbling, he knew. But he couldn't seem to- didn't want to stop himself. "Best mates. But he never said- he's quiet, isn't he?" he finally looked at Corey.

The sudden question seemed to catch the man off guard and he faltered slightly before Roman cut in with an oak like "yeah".

Tom nodded tersely, turning to look out of the window. "I thought so," he said softly, tracing patterns in the condensation. "He's like that- quiet. But there are different levels of his quietness- different types- you have to watch out for that. He's so…" he flapped his hands around, trying to scramble for the word he wanted, wishing he'd taken his English teachers advice and read more books to widen his vocabulary. "I don't know the word for it. Hard to figure out sometimes," he felt guilty saying it. "But he's good- really, he is. I don't know anyone better, so just- just give him a chance, yeah?"

Bemused and trying to control the feeling that they might be getting somewhere with Cub, Snake smiled at him. "Of course we're giving him a-" he swallowed his impatience as the teen interrupted again.

"No, I don't mean that!" he snapped.

How can you know what I mean when you won't even let me finish my sentence? He caught the barbed growl before it left his lips, smiling wanly instead back at Tom.

Gesturing and frowning, he leant further back into his seat as the car turned down a relatively quiet street. "It's hard to explain…all I mean is that-I oh I don't know!" he threw up his hands in frustration. "The last time I saw him was about 2 or 3 months ago. Time can do a lot to a person," and for some reason, his voice dropped lower on those words, some odd wisdom lighting up his blue eyes.

Snake nodded sympathy. "We haven't really talked much," he admitted. "Is there anything we should know about him?"

The bark of laughter was unexpected and an odd mix of bitterness, sadness, anger and wistfulness that Snake had ever heard. "Let's just put it this way- if you think you know him, you'd better change that opinion fast- because you really don't,"

A pause passed before Wolf spoke up, his voice low as he drove with his eyes fixed firmly on the road. "Do you know Alex?"

Tom paused.

Did he know Alex?

Did he really?

They weren't beating me up! It was just…play fighting.

You didn't have to do that for me.

Pass the ball, Alex!

Damn! My maths homework! Did you do it? Seriously? I can? Thanks, mate!

Sometimes…I just think that they don't even know I'm there.

What? You're a spy? How cool is that!

Alex has gone to America?

Alex?

"I don't know," he said softly. "I thought I did, but…I don't know. I don't think anyone really knows Alex. Not even himself." And he turned back to staring outside of the window.


Pensively, Tom watched as Roman unlocked the door and pushed it inwards, Corey giving him a small encouraging smile before allowing Tom to step in before him.

He knew it was just Corey being kind; but it gave him the feeling of being prison led to his death sentence.

Trying to swallow any apprehension (misguided. Unfair. What had Alex ever done wrong to him? He left you when you needed him most- he stopped that train of thought. It was too dangerous to get wrapped into) that he had, he stepped into the house and then stopped- the breath knocked out of him.

"What the hell happened to you?" the words left his mouth before he could stop them, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Alex stared back, arms hanging loosely at his side.

"What do you mean?" it was Roman who asked that, breaking the suddenly awkward atmosphere.

Swallowing, cursing his big and clumsy mouth, he shook his head, squinting at his friend hard. "You look…" how did he look? He wasn't sporting any obvious injuries- in fact, the only thing he could see wrong with him was the bandage peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeves. Then what made him feel like there was-?

"Hey, Tom,"

Unconsciously, he took a wary step back.

That voice.

Something was wrong with it- something had changed within it. That voice was-

"Alex?"

K-Unit exchanged glances. Had they picked up the wrong boy? This kid didn't seem to know Cub at all.

Alex stared blankly back at Tom.

Small Tom with his unruly mop of dark hair, his blue eyes and small stature. Tom with that voice that was so loud- just as untameable as his hair- bursting out at a moment's notice. Tom.

Bitterness washed through him before he could stop it.

Never changing Tom.

Except Alex changed, didn't he? Alex changed and morphed and twisted into different people and different shapes and- and now Tom was looking at him like he didn't know him.

Because he doesn't.

Then give him the "Alex" he does know.

But he was so tired of pulling on that mask. That mask was studded with shards of glass coated in poison.

Pull it on.

Tom relaxed as Alex loosened his posture, lips curving up slightly, his brown eyes soulful but warm. Not cold like they had been before. "Hey, Tom."

And that was how K-Unit first saw Alex's 360 degree turn in personality.

Eagle coughed, drawing the attention of all stood in the hallway. "Anyone want tea?"


Tom stared awkwardly into his cup of tea, too hot to sip although Tom really wanted to sip at it- do something that would just use up time.

"I hear you're living with Jerry, now,"

Tom looked up to see Alex looking at him, brown eyes doing that annoying assessing thing.

He nodded shortly. "Yeah, just until things cool down, you know. We don't know what's happening legally, but it's cool so far," he shrugged with forced carelessness.

Alex nodded slowly. "But everything else is OK at home?" it was voiced as a question.

You'd know if you didn't just leave! The brutal comment was meant to be just a thought, but from the way Alex briefly looked hurt, Tom started as he realised the words had actually left his lips.

"Sorry," he mumbled after a tense pause.

Alex managed to dredge up a smile. "Don't worry about it. I understand if you-"

"No, that's the problem. You don't understand," Tom put the cup down onto the coffee table with perhaps more force than was necessary. "You just left, Alex. Not one word, not one phone call,"

Tom noticed how Alex's eyes strayed to the four men who sat in the living room with them- an obvious plea to be quiet, but Tom ignored him.

"What happened, Alex? I thought we were friends. But you just disappear one day- I was in hospital- you just disappear, and when I'm out, I hear you've gone. Just like that,"

"Things happened," his friend's voice was soft.

Tom scowled at him. "Things always happen with you," and he pretended not to notice the barely covered hurt that washed across Alex's face. "But now you're back. It would've been nice to receive a phone call, you know, some sort of notice that you were OK." A sudden thought struck him and his eyes narrowed. "How long have you been back in England then, anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

Alex gazed right back at him, meeting his eyes. "Things got busy," was the candlewax reply.

For a moment, Tom stared at him, and then he pulled back, wounded. "You've been back a while, haven't you. A month? Two? And you didn't even bother to call me."

"Things have been busy!" and there it was again, that odd sound in Alex's voice that he had heard over the phone not too long ago. What was it? It sounded familiar.

Pushing the thought aside, he kept going, determined to get some answers for once. "I only needed a text Alex- anything. I wasn't asking you to come to my house towing a parade along!" his voice was getting steadily louder. Suddenly remembering that it wasn't just him and Alex in the room, he snapped his mouth shut.

"I missed you."

Alex looked up at Tom who had muttered the words, the cup of tea now clasped securely in his hands.

"Ryan said," Alex offered.

Tom wilted.

That wasn't the right reply.

Where was the: "Of course you did, idiot"? Or the sarcastic but true "I missed you too"?

"What've you been up to?" Tom had to clear his throat; it had gone gravelly from his collision into his thoughts. Trying to swallow down the hurt that welled up in him, he glanced around at the four men lounged on different sofa's, all talking softly but no doubt able to hear what was being said. Tom leant forward. "And what's with these guys?" he kept his voice low.

"Protection," was the blunt reply. It was obvious that Alex didn't want to go into it.

Lips pursed, he pulled back. "When you went to America-"

Alex closed his eyes.

"I heard that you went to go and live with Sabina and her family,"

K-Unit perked up, listening in.

"What was that like?"

"Horrible," Alex whispered.

"What?" Tom looked sharply at Alex and did a double take.

He looked…fragile at that moment. And that odd tone was back in his voice again (what was it?).

"Cub?" Roman had stood up (evidence that they were listening) and was watching Alex (why'd he call him 'Cub'?) concernedly. "You OK, kid?"

Alex visibly shook himself. "I'm fine," the reply was mechanical, something Tom was used to- and if he deciphered the frustration that flitted across the four (powerful, strong. He could sense it) men's faces right- he knew that they were used to it too.

"The Pleasure's…didn't work out?" the question was lame, and Tom cursed himself for it. Of course it didn't work out! That much was obvious.

"America…" Alex's voice wasn't all there. His eyes were distant and foggy- and in that moment Tom knew that they weren't fixed entirely on reality- that he'd forgotten they were there.

Coldness swept through him.

Had MI6 finally done it? Had they finally driven his friend mad?

"It'll kill you one day, Alex!" Tom yelled, clenching his fists to his side.

Alex just looked at him, gave him that gaze that said so much- so much- and he never understood what it meant! He could never work out just what that gaze was filled with!

"Don't look at me like that." He snapped, taking a step forward. "I hate it when you look at me like that!"

Alex lowered his gaze like that of autumn leaves falling sleepily from a willow tree. "Of course it'll kill me," and his voice was so snowfall soft that Tom hardly caught it.

"What?" the answer was so unexpected that he found his anger momentarily snuffed out.

A smile (gentle, not quite mocking, but not quite real, either) curled upon his lips. "It won't kill me like that though. Not how you think. You think it'll be a bullet to the head- maybe if I'm not so lucky a dank torture chamber somewhere, right?" he looked up, that annoyingly velvet understanding in his eyes.

Tom flinched, tossing his gaze to the ground to try and hide the guilt that rolled in there.

No matter, Alex had already seen. The smile drooped slightly, but was infuriatingly there all the same (why didn't he cry like Tom had when his parents had announced a divorce? Why didn't he wail and beg for help like he had when he'd stupidly smashed his hand through a glass window? Why did he always have to be the strong one?) on his face. "It'll drive me mad first,"

Tom looked up, horrified.

But Alex wasn't looking at him anymore. His eyes were fixed elsewhere, an odd expression on his face. "It'll drive me mad- but it won't kill me. It won't kill me," and when he finally did look at Tom, he wished (before he could stop it) that Alex hadn't. That he'd stayed locked up in whatever world he'd been wandering. Because his eyes were so cold, so cold and…frightening.

"I'm not an easy person to kill."

And the words weren't said with cockiness or confidence. Just soft weariness. The weariness of that of a cockroach. Forever running, being hit, slammed, kicked- but never dying.

And Tom couldn't take it. He'd turned it into a joke of some sort, dragging Alex off too "loosen up a little" and forced himself to forget that brief glimpse into his friend that Alex had shown him.

Alex never did talk about things like that again.

Tom's conscious was snapped back to the present as Alex began speaking again. "People lie, Tom." And his eyes were so haunted- so hourglass heavy that Tom wished he'd never asked, wished Alex would stop looking like that and go back to how he was before (how was he before? It was such a long time ago now…). And now Alex was looking at him and he wished he wouldn't- wished he wouldn't pull up memories of regret and (you should've asked him why he thought that. You should've told him to talk to you. Instead, you made it into a big joke- didn't you? You couldn't handle it, could you?) past wrongs. "People lie and pretend and act and try to use you, Tom." His eyes were burning, ferocious. It was frightening. "Don't ever let them use you, Tom,"

"I won't," he squeaked, leaning away from this- this- terror in front of him. This wasn't Alex! He didn't know who this person-

And the look died from Alex's face. He pulled back, eyes heavy. "I don't want to talk about America,"

Choking out an almost hysterical laugh, Tom shook his head wildly. "Forget it, then! Let's talk about- let's- where's Jack? Did she come back with you?"

"Jack?" Corey piped up, cringing back as Wolf glared at him and Eagle and Fox jointly elbowed him in the side.

Tom turned to them curiously. They didn't know something as simple as that? "His housekeeper turned guardian,"

Guardian? Eagle exchanged a baffled look with Snake. But what about Cub's parents?

Tom turned back to Alex. "Is she OK?" he looked around him. "Is she here with you?"

Alex smiled gently at him, and for some reason, Tom felt pinned.

"No, she's fine though,"

Feeling a little relieved at the sane comment, he smiled hesitantly. "Where is she now?"

Alex watched Tom until the boy squirmed under his not-all-there gaze.

Where was Jack?

Such an odd question.

He had ventured back into the land of timelessness though, so she was probably at home, cooking scrambled eggs and humming songs under her breath.

"At home," he smiled (a real smile? Or just an echo of one?).

"I…knocked but no one came to the door," Tom's voice was oddly meek.

Really?

"Hmm." Alex dragged a coldcoldcold finger across the sofa (what was he doing? He didn't want to think about redhairscrambledeggsmusicalv oice-Jack. He didn't want to-) "She probably went out to get some more eggs."

And there was something, something in Alex's eyes that told Tom that asking anymore questions would not be a good idea.

So, in true Tom fashion, he told a funny story.

"You haven't heard about Sasha Tolle and Warren, have you? Here, let me tell you…"


Thanking Corey for the lift back home, he stepped waved the man off and turned, stepping into his parent's garden and wishing that Jerry hadn't picked today to go over and check on their parents. After today's events…he didn't think he could deal with walking into another argument.

Taking a deep breath, he slid his key into the lock and briefly closed his eyes.

Unlocking the door with a foreboding click he stepped into the house. "Mum? Dad? Jerry?" he called cautiously into the building, locking the door behind him.

"In here, Tom!" Jerry's voice called.

Heartened by the lack of raised voices, he stepped into the kitchen to see Jerry tucking into a pile of fish and chips with his parents who smiled at him when he stepped in- though it was tight, it was still a smile.

"Good day, kiddo?" Jerry called.

He paused. Was it? "I suppose," he decided upon instead. A safer option.

"Would you like some fish and chips, Tommy?" his mum asked, still insisting on calling him that babyish version of his name that she had cooed at him when he was a baby.

"Yeah, please," he sat down, scraping it in underneath him.

"Who'd you go and see?" Jerry asked through a mouthful of food as their mum got up to bustle around and get a new plate.

"Alex," he said.

Jerry's eyebrow's raised, but apart from that, he looked unfazed. Briefly, Tom wished he could be a little more chilled out like his brother. "What, like, the Rider kid? Teenage spy and all that?"

"Jerry!" he hissed, glancing at his dad who luckily was engrossed in his own fish and chips.

He shrugged and rubbed a fish and chip greased hand fondly through his hair, Tom yelping and ducking away. "Right. Classified, right?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, smoothing down his hair.

"Cool." Jerry grinned.

Their mum entered back into the room, balancing some glasses along with the plate.

"Careful, mum, you don't want to-"

Too late.

She squeaked as a glass fell and shattered against the floor, the pieces cascading like fragments of crystal across the floor.

And then suddenly there was yelling.

Again.

Jerry cast him an apologetic look, grabbing up his arm and muttering that it was time they left.

But Tom hardly heard, eyes fixed on the sparkling glass on the floor.

He'd finally worked out what that tone was to Alex's voice.

Splintering glass.

Shattering glass.

Breaking.


K-Unit had decided to talk to Alex about today's visit when Snake got back in, but luck just didn't seem to be on their side today.

As soon as Snake stepped quickly through the door; the phone rang.

Giving each other frustrated looks, Wolf moved towards the phone. "Hello?"

The rest of the unit watched as Wolf conversed with the person over the phone, their leaders brow furrowing and eyes become darker and confused.

Finally, Wolf put the phone down, and he turned to give the m all exasperated looks. "That was Blunt's secretary on the phone,"

Alex looked up from his now cold cup of tea.

Wolf's eyes turned disapprovingly onto him. "He wants you back at school tomorrow," from the thin line that made his mouth, it was very obvious that Wolf wasn't pleased.

School?

As in…Brooklands?

But…why?

"Cub?"

Something was going on. Something was happening.

Alex turned his head to the side.

Oh he knew.

Blunt had decided to get things moving.

That mission that he had spoken about would be soon, he knew it (I'm not scared. I'm not scared. Promise. Promise).

Forcing a grim smile (but it wasn't a smile. What right had he to call it that?) he nodded softly. "School. Right."

Game start.


"Sorry about that, Tom,"

"Hmm?"

Jerry glanced over at his kid brother, noticing his distraction. "I mean," he turned the wheel up towards their flat-a small block in a quiet area- mostly occupied by old people who wanted a retreat from the noisy youth filled areas. Not quite his taste, but hey- beggars can't be choosers, right? "I thought they'd calmed down. It was fine for a few hours, but they were already quite tense, I guess. I suppose the glass breaking was just a chance to let it all out,"

Glass, breaking, shattering. "Hm," his eyes landed on the object on the dashboard. Slowly, a smile slid onto his face, momentarily forgetting Alex and the enigma he carried with the name. Pointing at the object, he grinned. "What, these from Brooke?"

Jerry snorted. "Yeah right," he shook his head. As if he'd accept flowers from that stalker. Oh well. At least his little brother didn't have that lost look on his face anymore. Pulling into a parking lot, he smiled widely. "Actually, they were from some lady down the street. Asked whether I wanted them," he turned the key in the ignition, listening to the croak of his engine die down. "Got the wrong ones, apparently,"

Tom lifted it up, staring at it apprehensively. "What are they?"

Jerry wrinkled his nose, one hand on the car door to let himself out. "Begonia's, 21 of them. But the lady sure was pretty,"

"You get her number?" Tom shoved the flowers back at Jerry as they climbed out of the car.

"Nah," he dropped them into the bin on the way out. "She looked a little whacko. I prefer the sane type, you know,"

"Yeah," Tom watched the bin lid clatter shut. "I know,"


AN-DONE! OOOHHHH! AND THE PLOT BEGINS TO UNRAVEL! Boom! Oh yeah! I'm running on Cola, Jelly Babies and chocolate at the moment! Can you tell? I'm so excited to write mooorree! I can't wait! Ooh! So, do tell me what you think!

I hope I don't ruin the mood with this, but, uh, well, I was thinking- hoping, um… I'm not GOOD AT ASKING FOR THINGS! But…REVIEW!

DON'T GET ME WRONG! The reviews I do receive are wonderful beyond words and I give you all my extreme gratitude and plenty of cheesecake (take it. Take it). But, for those who don't review (I don't know why, maybe you don't quite know what to say? That's OK, I get that too, sometimes) But look at it this way:

It's kind of like someone giving you a present, right? Took quite a lot of time to find and make this present. You take the present and then walk away without saying anything.

BUT THE PERSON WHO GAVE YOU THE PRESENT WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF IT! O:

I'm only saying this because I love you all (I mean, I've never met you before, but I'm sure you're all wonderful) and really care about what you have to say about my story- I'm not guilt tricking you into anything. But, please if you don't have anything constructive to say, don't bother saying it. Reviews are what keep me writing! (that and my love of writing for YOOOUUU!)

So thank you for reading! The plot is finally unfurling! Keep reading! It's only getting started!

Oh. And I have a new idea for a new Alex Rider story. Wanna know? Ask nicely, children. *grins*