Thank you everyone for reviewing! I'm sorry for the long wait - I've been really sick and stuff.

Here's Yassen birthday - not very celebratory, though. And in the next chapter, I PROMISE, the action will start.

Happy reading!

-Lauren

x.x.x

Today was the 21st of November. Yassen's birthday.

Normally he just acknowledged it, and continued on with life. His birthday had not been a celebration since he was 13 years old. Yassen simply saw it as another day in life. One that he happened to be born on many years before.

It was Yassen's sixth birthday. The 21st of November, 1972.

'Happy Birthday, darling!' exclaimed his mother as he came down the stairs. Yassen smiled. He loved his birthday. He didn't know that in time he would treat it as any other ordinary day.

His mother swooped down on him and kissed him on both of his cheeks.

'Here you go, Yassen,' she said, handing him a present. Yassen took it and grinned. He shook the present, wondering what was inside. He had an insatiable curiosity at this age – much like Alex Rider.

'Go on, open it, honey!' said his mother enthusiastically. Yassen ripped the wrapping paper off and found a soccer ball in the box.

'Thanks, mommy!' he said.

'Aw, that's all right, honey,' she said, hugging him.

'Who's the birthday boy?' boomed the deep voice of Yassen's father. Yassen smiled at his father's booming voice. He'd always hoped one day he'd end up with his father's voice. Little did he know all his voice would ever be in the future was emotionless and cold.

'Happy Birthday, little Yassen,' said his father, ruffling Yassen's hair. Yassen grinned at his father. He was obviously hiding the present behind his back.

'Now, where's the present, Yassen?' asked his dad, smiling cheekily at him.

'It's behind your back, daddy!' said Yassen, swerving around to reach it.

'Good try, son, good try,' said his father, chuckling. 'You'll have to be a little quicker than that.'

Yassen's father didn't know Yassen would one day grow up to be one of the quickest moving assassins in the world.

He tormented Yassen by holding the present within his grasp and then pulling it away for a few minutes, before he handed his present to the beaming little boy.

Yassen ripped off the paper once again, and grinned as he saw a water pistol. Yassen's dad didn't know Yassen would soon be an expert with the real thing.

'Thanks, daddy!' Yassen's father smiled and ruffled his hair.

'Now, I have a question to ask you…' said Yassen's dad. The little Yassen was eager to hear it. Yassen's mother smiled at the way her husband managed to keep the attention of a 6 year old boy so effortlessly.

'Yes, daddy?'

'What is it that you want to be when you grow up?' asked Yassen's dad, smiling at his son.

'I dunno,' said Yassen, shrugging.

'Really?' asked Yassen's dad.

Yassen nodded.

'What can I be?' he asked.

Yassen's dad laughed.

'You can be anything you want to, son. Anything you want.'

Yassen could have been anything he wanted to be.

He chose to be an assassin.

It was Yassen's tenth birthday. 21st November, 1976.

His mother smiled sadly at him as he came down the stairs.

'Happy Birthday, Yassen,' she said. Yassen sensed something was wrong.

'Thanks mum. Is everything alright?' he asked.

His mother sighed. She seemed to be struggling for words.

'I'm so sorry, Yassen. I hate to do this to you. But your father's just lost his job, and we don't have any presents,' she said, looking genuinely sorry. And she was. She knew how much Yassen loved his birthday, and it broke her heart to tell the boy that he didn't have any presents.

Yassen paused for a moment.

'That's alright, mum,' he said. 'Having food to eat and a place to stay is more important than presents.'

Yassen's mum burst into tears.

'You're such a good boy, Yassen,' she said, grabbing hold of him and hugging him tightly. Yassen returned the hug.

'I'm so sorry to do this to you, Yassen,' she said, smiling at her son with tears in her eyes.

'It's alright, mum, it's alright.'

Yassen's dad came out.

'Morning, birthday boy!' said Yassen's dad. It was incredible how he could be cheery even after he'd just lost his job and failed to buy his son a single birthday present. But that was what Yassen loved about his dad most. He just kept on going, smiling all the time. He dealt with whatever came his way and always maintained a positive attitude. At least while Yassen was around, anyway.

'Morning, dad,' he said.

'I'm sorry about your present,' said Yassen's dad, as a faint flicker of sadness crossed his face. Yassen shook his head.

'No, it's really alright, dad.'

'Son, I'm so proud of you,' said Yassen's dad. He didn't know how much the words meant to Yassen when he said them.

Yassen felt bitter tears forming in his eyes. He willed them to disappear.

Are you still proud of me now, father? he asked silently. Are you still proud of me now?

It was Yassen's fourteenth birthday. 21st November 1980.

It was the day his parents died.

Yassen stopped himself from thinking about his fourteenth birthday further, but it was too late. The tears were already in his eyes. He felt them run down his face and splash onto the wooden table below. He cursed himself. He didn't need to get emotional. Emotional was the one thing that Yassen never was. Now was not a time to start.

Anya opened the door silently. She'd come in to ask Yassen a question – but stopped when she heard sounds of water, or something, dripping. Was that Yassen in there? Was he… crying?

She peeked further in and her suspicions were confirmed.

She debated whether she should go in and talk to him, or just leave and pretend she'd never seen. She highly doubted that Yassen wanted to be seen crying.

So what am I meant to do? she asked herself.

'Anya.' Yassen turned around and he seemed completely normal. There were no signs that he had been crying only moments before.

Anya thought she'd been stealthy enough, but it's hard to remain unnoticed in the presence of one of the best assassins in the world.

'Yeah, I… uh, um…' she stuttered. Yassen knew she'd seen him. What was she meant to say?

'Did you want something?' asked Yassen.

'I, uh, no, nothing,' she said.

Yassen looked disbelieving. He looked at her, indicating for her to go on.

'Well… I was just wanting to ask…' In seeing her uncle cry, Anya had forgotten what she was meant to ask Yassen. Something about… no, she couldn't remember. What would cause Yassen to cry? Her uncle was the strongest person she'd ever known – what could shake him?

'Anya, I have something to tell you,' said Yassen. 'I know you saw me. I don't deny it. But in the face of anything, you should still maintain your composure.'

Anya nodded.

'Good.'

Anya smiled awkwardly and left, still wondering what Yassen was crying about.

x.x.x

Anya tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get the image of Yassen crying out of her mind. He didn't cry like a normal human being; his face didn't show any emotion – and she would not have noticed his sadness if tears hadn't been dripping from his eyes. Still, Anya knew he was crying.

By midnight she had come up with a host of different ideas, and by one o' clock she'd picked out the most likely. Anya remembered when she had asked Yassen about his parents – he'd responded with a cold 'no.' Also, she noticed that he seemed to have empathy unusual for his character when it came to the matter of her father. Tears started to creep into her eyes as she thought of her father – she willed herself to stop thinking about him.

Anya wondered how Yassen had lost his parents – but there was no way she was going to ask him.

x.x.x

The next morning, Anya remembered what she was meant to ask Yassen.

'Good morning, Anya,' said Yassen, as Anya came down the stairs. He was up before her, as usual, reading through his Japanese book. Anya smiled gently at him, not wanting to bring up yesterday's incident. She'd remembered what she wanted to ask him, though.

'Hi Yassen. I was wondering… do you know a boy called Alex Rider?'

Yassen had been expecting the question, ever since he had learnt that Alex attended Brookland. Surely he would have seen Anya with Yassen, and pieced that together with her last name and her physical appearance, and asked questions. He had only wondered how long it would have taken Alex to ask about it.

'What did he say about me?' asked Yassen. He was curious as to what Alex Rider thought of him now he knew he was alive.

'Nothing. He just asked me whether I knew someone called Yassen Gregorovich, and I said no. I was wondering how he knew your real name.'

'I know Alex Rider. He's a son of a friend of mine,' said Yassen.

'Oh, right,' said Anya. 'So should I tell him about you?' she asked.

Yassen considered. Alex already knew he was alive, Yassen was sure of that – Anya was not very good at keeping secrets. It would be interesting to see Alex trying to figure out the puzzle, and how Yassen survived, Yassen thought.

'No,' said Yassen. Anya nodded. 'Let's see what Alex will do.'