This chapter really made me sad for some reason :(

However, it is a good stage-setter for things to come...

Oh yeah, this chappie is pretty long too, just so I've warned you...

P.S: A long delayed message to Yotakehisuo174...Yes I'm interested in your story, PM me with the details!! Sorry I didn't reply before now, but your profile doesn't have the ability for me to PM you!!

Chapter Ten, Mistakes

In the time that it took Alex to get himself back under control, Yassen had made himself a cup of coffee and found the latest issue of Guns and Ammo on a nearby kitchen counter and was seriously considering the Chinese QSZ-92 pistol. The only problem being that he was still slightly broke.

"Are you finished laughing at my expense?" Yassen asked in a bored tone, flicking to the next page of his magazine. An advertisement for army surplus…At discounted prices. Yassen vaguely wondered exactly how competitive the army surplus market was.

Alex was still grinning (he looked slightly maniacal for it), but he nodded anyway.

"Yes," he replied, "Sorry about that."

In all actuality, he didn't sound very repentant.

Yassen just took a rather vigorous sip of his coffee in response.

Seeing that the Russian was not interested in conversation, Alex decided to take a much needed shower. He quickly returned to his room and found, much to his satisfaction, a choice of replacement clothing in a chest of drawers. He chose a sand coloured T-shirt, desert camouflage pants and a pair of correctly sized combat boots before laying it all out on his bed and walking into his room's ensuite.

The ensuite was like the bedroom itself: clean, neat and spacious but rather Spartan. The walls and floor was a dark tile and the sink had two drawers underneath. There was a large mirror bolted on the wall as well, which Alex noted vaguely. Whilst he wasn't completely obsessed with his appearance, he was given to a slight streak of vanity. He turned to the shower. It was the only exorbitant part of the room, with powerful jets and a built-in bench.

Alex happily turned the water on as hot as it would go and climbed in after peeling off his clothing. He enjoyed the sensation of the water hitting him; the apartment's air conditioning was set too cold and the hot water and steam was a welcome relief. He sat under the jets on the bench for a long time.

Eventually, Alex felt energetic enough to turn the water off and walk back into his room to change into the outfit he'd left on his bed. The clothing was a little big due to the fact Alex was small for his age, but it was clean and that was the important thing. Feeling 110 better, Alex walked back out to see what Yassen was doing.

It seemed the Russian had showered as well, if his wet hair was anything to go by. He was wearing an outfit similar to Alex's, but his shirt was long sleeved with what looked a little like a Swat vest only thinner and lighter over it. Yassen also had his gun in its holster. Alex noted he still used the Grach. Maybe it was just what the Russian was comfortable with.

"How come our outfit is different to mine?" Alex asked curiously, having figured out the clothing he was wearing was a uniform of sorts.

"I think this is Scorpia's way of saying I'm going to be your mentor," the Russian said darkly, "This is an instructor's outfit."

Alex inwardly groaned. Having Yassen as his instructor would be hell; the Russian would push him to be the best trainee in the whole camp if Alex knew Yassen. He was already imagining the soul crushing, brutal training ahead of him. He figured Yassen would take making Alex into the best operative that ever breathed (and possibly died) as a sort of personal challenge.

Yassen read Alex's expression effortlessly. He looked torn between annoyance and amusement.

"I know how you feel," he said, "But the fact is the camp is very full at the moment and all the instructors are teaching crowded classes. I think Chris thinks that since I'm more or less your guardian now, we should train to work as a two person unit. It's not dissimilar to how I trained with your Father."

Slightly buoyed by that thought, Alex figured now was the time to ask a few questions.

"So does that mean my training program will be different to everyone else's?"

Yassen nodded.

"Most people are here for basic training until Scorpia chooses a specific area for them to specialize in. Your Father specialized in field work instruction."

"And let me guess, you specialized in assassination?" Alex asked dryly.

"Actually no," Yassen replied calmly, "There's no area or course by that name. Usually, you specialize in several areas that help you excel in whatever line of business Scorpia need you in. I specialized in ninjutsu, basic psychological warfare, conventional warfare and terrorist technique. I received top marks in all of them."

"Show-off," Alex muttered before sighing. "What will I be studying then?"

Yassen considered the question for a moment.

"It depends a little on what Chris wants, but I think that to start off with, I'll teach you the basics to all the areas I specialized in. I'll also teach you technology and Russian."

Alex scowled, he wasn't hugely into computers (especially not after the whole Stormbreaker affair) and whilst he'd picked up Spanish and French easily enough, he wasn't entirely sure about learning Russian.

"I don't know about Russian," Alex complained, "It's a whole different alphabet!"

Yassen's smile was not so much sympathetic as amused at Alex's distress.

"It's not that hard really," he replied, "And besides, I'll just refuse to speak to you in anything other then Russian."

Alex brightened.

"Not having to speak to you doesn't sound so bad."

Yassen's expression had an almost cruel edge now.

"Part of training you in ninjutsu includes teaching you about poisons. So, as an exercise, I may poison your meals and only give your lesson on how to neutralize the toxins in Russian. If you don't speak it, I think you'll go hungry. I'll also tell everyone not to feed you behind my back."

"Bastard." Alex growled.

"Yes," Yassen agreed in a tone that was slightly smug, "Exactly."

Alex gave up, it was too irritating and exasperating to try and win an argument against Yassen.

"Alright, Russian and technology as extras," Alex sighed, "Anything else?"

Yassen shrugged.

"Not for now. Once I have an idea what you have a talent for, I can change your lessons accordingly. I'd give my professional opinion that you'll be naturally skilled with psychological warfare and terrorist technique."

Alex was surprised by that surmise.

"Why do you say that?" He asked, "Especially considering I'm not exactly stable myself, psychologically speaking."

"That's actually my point," Yassen replied, walking around behind the kitchen counter. He searched in a drawer and produced a plastic bottle that seemed to contain the same painkillers he'd taken in the car in London. "Your experience actually gives you an insider's knowledge to how to get in people's head and inflict substantial damage."

Alex suddenly thought of the way Julia Rothman had played him like a puppet.

"Yes," He said quietly, "Scorpia are good at that, aren't they?"

Yassen shot him a sharp look, swallowing two pills.

"Alex, you made the choice here," he said warningly, "It's not reversible."

Alex nodded and held up his hands in a gesture of calm.

"I know that," he said with equilibrium, "And I don't regret it. I do however have bad memories to work through."

"I understand that far too well for my liking," Yassen said grimly, "Which is most likely why both of us are being subjected to therapy."

Alex raised a brow.

"Subjected?" He repeated dubiously, "That's not quite the right way to look at it surely? It's meant to help."

Yassen laughed shortly and shook his head in motion that seemed very bitter and very cold.

"Not to me," he replied acrimoniously, "Not after my life. My thoughts are the only real thing I possess, the only definite haven or safe house I have left. I'm not going to let any therapist or two-bit recruit sporting some pathetic degree in psychology destroy that just so they can claim they successfully deal with a 'difficult patient'."

Alex bit his bottom lip, sensing this was something that Yassen had made a near irremediable resolution about. He also thought that the Russian's complete and utter indisposition to accepting any incursion from the outside world into what he considered to be his 'only definite haven' might be to his own destruction.

A somewhat uneasy quiet fell between Alex and Yassen for the remainder of that day. Alex thought that perhaps he had inadvertently said something of an intrusive or offensive nature. In actual fact, Yassen was mostly enclosed in his own thoughts, paying little mind to Alex's restlessness. When he did register Alex's fretfulness from time to time, he wondered himself if he'd done something to distress Alex.

So it was that the morning slid uninterrupted, except for a brief appearance from Zarina, into early afternoon. Alex, realising that he and Yassen had said maybe ten words to one another since their morning conversation, began to worry in earnest whilst Yassen, perhaps picking up on Alex's emotions, slipped even further into the shadows of his own thoughts and memories.

I'd thought I was doing the right thing to begin with. Alex had asked to be brought to Scorpia and that was what I had done. After Alex's encounter with Amil and Jun however…

I was beginning to doubt myself.

The fact was that Vladimir was right; I had some deep buried paternal instincts that I'd only registered since being thrust into this unexpected state of affairs that resulted in my becoming Alex's impromptu guardian.

I don't begrudge my position; I have no difficulty with admitting I care for Alex too much for that to happen. The problem is though, I have no expertise in nurturing any existence other then my own and truth be told, I've thus far done an abysmal job of even that. So how in the name of God am I expected to know how to raise Alex properly, especially given the rather unique circumstances we're both in?!

Yassen considered the 'unique' circumstances for awhile, somewhat amused by his understatement. Vaguely he noted Alex's troubled expression. A sneaking suspicion that he'd done something to upset the boy snuck into his train of thought.

Zhopa…I've upset him. How, I'm not exactly certain. Perhaps what I said earlier…? I make him uncomfortable when I say things like that. I don't know how to fix the problem… I need help...

Yassen is trying to do the best he can for me and I keep on screwing things up. I must have accidentally said something that upset him earlier on; he's barely said anything all day. Not that that's all that unusual really. Yassen is not likely to ever be winner for 'best conversationalist'.

I don't have a clue though how to talk to him. I mean, the man is unstable at the nest of times and now…

Well, I guess there really is one way to deal with this.

"Are you pissed off at me?"

Yassen looked up from a laptop he'd found in the apartment study.

"No, why would I be?"

Alex frowned and felt a little like he was head butting a brick wall: he wasn't getting anywhere.

"You have barely said a word all afternoon."

Yassen laughed suddenly and pushed his laptop away.

"I thought there was something bothering you. I was actually sitting here trying to find something to help me deal with this whole situation better."

Alex frowned.

"What do you…?"

Yassen just laughed again and pushed the laptop over to where Alex could see the screen as well. Alex's mouth fell open when he saw what Yassen was looking at.

Foster Parenting help, from Beginners to the Experienced!

"Please tell me you're joking." Alex said weakly, trying to maintain his grip on sanity. There was an absolutely revolting picture of a handsome man hugging a dopey looking toddler beneath the headline. Alex silently resolved to punch Yassen's face in if he ever tried to do the same to him.

Yassen looked torn between sheepishness and defensiveness.

"It was the best idea I could come up with," he replied waspishly, "A little gratitude for my efforts would be nice."

Alex fought for words, still struggling to decide how best to deal with this.

"B-but…You can't seriously…Foster Parenting help?!"

Yassen glared at Alex and shut the laptop.

"Well, I didn't know what else to define this whole thing as. I'm sure as hell not your babysitter!"

Alex gave a strangled sort of moan before forcing himself to deal with the problem at hand.

"You know, it might have saved you some time and effort if you'd just asked me what was wrong!"

Yassen looked a little amused now. Alex was glad someone was able to take all this in a good humour.

"Firstly Alex, what makes you think I'm that smart? Secondly, this isn't just for today. I'm pretty much a foster parent now, if you use the definition rather loosely. In case you haven't noticed, I don't have the sort of personality that lends itself to such a task as child-rearing."

"Yeah but I'm not a little kid who can't take care of himself," Alex complained, "I'm able to more or less raise myself!"

"Alex, I've already told you this several times," Yassen said wearily, "Including once on the top of a London building after shooting Sayle. You are still a child, no matter how mature or experienced you are. As such, you still need someone to raise you. I'm hardly an ideal choice, but that's too bad. So please just make this easy on me and nod your head."

Alex scowled.

"Fine. But I have a few demands."

Yassen stared at Alex, not sure this was leading anywhere good.

"Right?"

Alex nodded firmly.

"Yes. Number One, I drink what I like in the mornings. Even if that means coke. Secondly, you do not ever try to talk to me about relationships, sex or anything along those lines."

Yassen resisted the urge to crack his own head against the kitchen counter.

"Right," He muttered, "And thirdly?"

Alex narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Thirdly, I want to call Jack."

Yassen inwardly groaned. The one thing that was difficult and Alex had zeroed in on it.

"Alex, you know that's really not possible."

Alex looked upset, but he hid it well behind an angry glare.

"You said you'd try to sort something out back in London," He snapped, "It's not fair for me to leave Jack having no clue where I am or if I'm even still alive! I just want to be able to apologise to her and tell her I'm going to be okay."

Yassen shook his head.

"Alex, I know you want to do the right thing, but I honestly don't think it'll work. You have to consider the fact how easy it would be to trace your call and the fact that Jack might have surveillance on her."

Alex's face lost its angry scowl, revealing the hurt, sad child beneath it. Yassen felt a reluctant stirring of sympathy. He knew what it was like to be all alone without your family. Was it really fair of him to impose the same misery on Alex?

"Please?" Alex begged, "If you just let me do this one thing, I'll try not to be such a pain in the ass."

Yassen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think the issue over. He didn't usually place emotions over logic in solving problems, but in this case there wasn't a lot of choice.

"Alright," He said eventually, "We can go ask Chris."

Alex cheered visibly.

"Cool."

Yassen tried to fix Alex with a stern look.

"This is not a guarantee, alright? It's just me seeing what I can do for you. Understand me?"

Alex nodded unconcernedly.

"Yep. Now let's go."

"What, now?"

Alex nodded again.

"Of course now! What, did you think I meant next week or something?"

Yassen regarded Alex for a moment, reflecting on how very unmotivated he was to move he was right then.

"No, I guess not." The Russian muttered after a second, standing, "Let's go see Chris then."

Alex gave the first full, genuine smile Yassen had seen on the teen's face.

"Okay."

And then, as he followed Yassen out of the apartment.

"And Yassen?"

The Russian looked over at him, brows raised.

"Yes?"

"Thanks." Alex said seriously.

As preoccupied as he was with the prospect of speaking to Jack again, Alex couldn't help but be interested in his surroundings as he and Yassen walked towards Chris' office. The whole camp seemed baked hard by the desert heat; the horizon rippled in the sweltering sun. Walking through an empty courtyard, Alex looked up and noticed guards watching him and Yassen from second storey balconies. Each one was armed with what looked like an M16 Viper and a Jericho 941 handgun as a secondary weapon. They also wore headsets, swat vests and carried at least four knives each, as far as Alex could see.

Noticing Alex's interest in the guards, Yassen began to speak.

"Since you destroyed the old organisation and since the revolution, Scorpia has been taking security extremely seriously. This camp has five different units working around the clock to maintain the camp's integrity. The men you see there are the Squadra di battimento, or Beat Squad. They work in five man patrols or in stationary posts such as the watchtowers."

As they moved out of the courtyard and into a narrow, well lit walkway, something occurred to Alex.

"What about the other four units?"

Yassen smiled, approving of Alex's curiosity.

"There's the Unità canina. They're our equivalent for the American K9 police squads. A word of advice, don't ever go near them if you can help it; the dogs are trained to be as vicious and lethal as possible, there have been…accidents before."

As if to compliment Yassen's narration, they passed an open archway leading out into a large penned in area. Inside the razor wire and chain-link fences, Alex could see several men wearing bulky protective armour leading three enormous and nasty looking dogs through what he supposed was the canine equivalent of an assault course.

"What are they?" Alex asked, secretly intimidated by the animals, "Mastiffs?"

Yassen shook his head in amusement.

"No. They're a cross-breed; Australian Bandog and Rottweiler. I think most of Scorpia just call them 'Butcher Dogs'."

"Why cross-breed them?" Alex asked, "Wouldn't one or the other be enough?"

Yassen shrugged.

"You'd think so. I think originally they just used the Australian Bandogs, but they were too slow, so they bred them with Rottweilers to make them faster. My point is however, don't ever provoke them; there isn't a handler alive that can stop a Butcher Dog from ripping your throat out if that's what it wants to do. I wouldn't worry about being bitten too much though, I'll show you where the dogs patrol and you'll know to stay away from there."

Alex swallowed and took one last look at the snarling animals before following Yassen again.

"What about the other guard units?"

"The rest are fairly straight forward. There's the Disperso nell'aria, or Airborne. They patrol the camp and surrounding desert by helicopter. Then there's the Guardie del corpo, who serve to act security for Executive Board members or for special projects. Lastly, there's the Elitisti, who are the camp's Special Forces."

"And do people train to join one of these units?" Alex asked, slowly recognising parts of the building they were in now. He figured they were close to Chris' office.

"Yes, but people training for acceptance into Camp Security study completely different units to you Alex." Yassen explained before stopping in front of what Alex recognised as the door to Chris' office. The Russian knocked on the wood door (Alex figured Yassen must really respect Chris if he was bothering with knocking) and led the way in.

Chris looked up from a pile of paperwork he'd been reading.

"I thought you'd been given time off?"

Yassen shrugged.

"This isn't business or training. Alex has a request."

Chris raised his dark brows and looked at Alex questioningly.

"Yes?"

"Um, I want to call Jack." Alex told the man, "Yassen said he'd ask you if it was okay."

Chris's expression was unreadable as he pushed the paperwork away and considered the question.

"Jack is your guardian back in London, correct? American girl who took over your upbringing after your Uncle died?"

Alex shot a look at Yassen.

"'Died' is a rather kind term for what happened, don't you think? I'd actually define it as 'assassinated'."

Chris waved the question away.

"You know what I mean. So that is who you are speaking of, right?"

Alex sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, that's Jack. I just want to call her and tell her that I'm okay. She's like an older sister almost; it's not fair of me to make her worry."

Chris tapped a pencil in his hand against his desk thoughtfully.

"I see…" He said slowly before seemingly making a decision. "Look, I need to talk to Yassen. Would you mind waiting outside for a minute?"

A little confused, Alex frowned.

"Why?"

Yassen exchanged a glance with Chris. Alex didn't like the unease he saw in both men's eyes.

"It's alright Alex, just do what Chris says."

Still wary, Alex looked over his shoulder at Chris as he left the office. The Australian man's face betrayed nothing.

Waiting until his office doors shut behind Alex, Chris turned to Yassen.

"I can't believe you promised him this."

Yassen frowned, annoyed by the other man's assumption.

"I didn't promise him anything; I just said I'd ask you and that I couldn't guarantee anything."

Chris sighed and shook his head in frustration.

"Still, you gave him a false hope."

"So you're not going to let him make the call?" Yassen asked. His tone was level, indicating no feelings either way. The Russian would ideally like Alex to get what he wanted, but he knew that that might not be possible, if it put the organization at too much risk.

"I don't know," Chris admitted, "I think it's a bad idea."

"I told Alex the same, more or less," Yassen said, "I told him it would be easy for the call to be traced. I'm sure MI6 already know about the camp being here, but there's no need to give them Alex's location as well."

Chris shook his head again.

"When I said I think it's a bad idea, I wasn't speaking in terms of security. We can destroy the phone after he uses it and I'm sure that MI6 would figure out his location fairly soon anyway. I was thinking of Alex himself when I said it was a bad idea. I think it would be bad for him to talk to Jack."

Listening closely from the other side of the office doors, Alex felt a stab of panic. Why did Chris think it would be a bad idea for him to talk to Jack? Did that mean he wasn't going to be allowed to do so? Biting his bottom lip, Alex went back to listening.

"I understand that," Yassen admitted, "But perhaps it might also be a good experience for him? It might serve as closure for him, make things easier for him."

Chris grunted, not totally convinced.

"Perhaps, and then again, perhaps not. Let Alex back in, I'll talk to him again before I decide on this."

Alex barely had time to leap away from the office doors before Yassen opened them. The look the Russian gave him suggested that he knew Alex had been eavesdropping. Either way, Yassen said nothing, just motioned for Alex to come back in.

Alex tried not to look worried or desperate as he regarded Chris Drummond across his desk. He had a good idea of what he was going to say to the man; he just worried how well his words would go down with the powerful man.

"Look Alex," Chris said wearily, diving right in, "I really don't think it would be a wise decision to let you talk to Jack. Please understand, I'm not trying to be an asshole here, I am actually thinking of you. You probably don't get it right now, but I think calling your old guardian would do you more harm then good."

"So that's a no then?" Alex asked quietly, briefly looking at Yassen. The Russian looked unhappy. Whether that was because of Chris' decision, or because of the general situation, Alex wasn't sure.

Chris shrugged.

"I'm afraid so."

Alex took a breath and then looked the sturdy man in the eye.

"If you don't let me call Jack, I'll just find a different phone and call her anyway."

There was a long moment of silence. Alex wondered if he'd gone too far, talking to a powerful member of Scorpia in such a disrespectful manner. Yassen's expression didn't give anything away, but Alex thought the Russian was not impressed. He turned away and looked at Chris. The Australian looked thoughtful rather then furious. Alex thought that was a good sign.

"I could tell the Squadra di battimento that you're not allowed near any phones. I could even tell them to use any non-lethal means necessary to prevent you from making any calls," Chris said warningly, "That could involve a great deal of pain for you."

Alex scowled and folded his arms across his chest.

"I'd still try, no matter the costs."

Chris looked at him closely for another long moment before relaxing and leaning back in his chair.

"I still think that this a very bad idea," He said slowly, "But I can see you're determined. I'd rather not come to conflict over this. You can make the call."

Alex tried to remain calm, but a small smile slipped onto his face.

"Thankyou."

Chris just grunted and reaching into one of the drawers in his desk, passed Alex a LG Black Label 'Shine' Mobile Phone.

"Here," He said, "You can use my phone."

Alex took the phone slowly, knowing just from looking at the machine, that it would have cost Chris a lot.

"I thought the phone I used was going to be destroyed after I made the call?" He said, "You're willing to have your personal phone be wrecked?"

Chris grinned.

"I have several. This is the cheapest phone I own. You can make your call."

It took Alex awhile to dial in all the necessary codes to access an international number, outside of the Scorpia network. Eventually however, he heard the single beep that Chris had said would mean he was connected with his home number. Nervous suddenly, Alex waited.

After ringing for a few moments, the line engaged.

"Hello?" Jack sounded miserable from the first syllable.

Alex's words caught in his throat for a moment, he couldn't say anything.

"Hello?" Jack said again, sounding confused now "Is anyone there?"

Shaking himself, Alex breathed out and spoke.

"Hello, Jack? It's Alex."

"A-Alex?!" Jack sounded stunned, "Oh my God! Where are you? Are you alright?"

Alex suddenly felt very miserable and lonely. He'd thought that calling Jack was something he'd calmly do and then return to whatever it was he was doing beforehand. Not that he could actually hear Jack's voice however, Alex knew Chris was right: this had been a mistake. He should never have called; he was only hurting Jack and himself.

"I'm fine," Alex managed, trying not to sound as depressed as he felt, "But I can't tell you where I am."

There was a long pause.

"You aren't coming home?" Jack asked in a small, sad voice.

"No Jack, I can't. MI6 aren't very happy with me," Alex said, "I'm not in England."

"Oh no, you're with those people again!" Jack cried, "Scorpia!"

"Um, sort of," Alex was sure he could feel his heart breaking in response to Jack's fear and sadness, "Well, yes, but it's not like last time. I'm with someone I can trust now."

"Like Ash?" Jack demanded, "You thought you could trust Ash and he was family!"

"No Jack, I really can trust who I'm with this time," Alex tried to reason with Jack, "He's the one who saved me from being shot to death in the shop. I'm with him. He's saved me from being arrested and also from being shot again too."

If Alex had thought these details would calm Jack, he was very much mistaken.

"What?" She gasped, "Oh my God Alex! What's going on?! I thought you said you were safe! Who are these people you're with?!"

Alex tried to explain, but Jack was well and truly hysterical by now. All Alex could do was sit there, trying to reason with her. He realized after a moment that he was crying.

"…I just want you to come home Alex!" Jack was crying too, "Why can't you come home?"

"I…I just can't," Alex said miserably, "I'm sorry Jack."

"Alex?" Yassen said softly, "Can I talk to Jack please?"

Startled, Alex looked between the Russian and the phone for a second before nodding slowly.

"Okay, let me just tell Jack."

Yassen nodded, content to wait. Taking a shuddering breath in, Alex put the phone back to his ear.

"Um, Jack?"

Jack must have sensed something in his tone, because she stopped what she was saying and listened wordlessly.

"You know how I said I was with someone trustworthy? Well, he wants to talk to you."

"O-okay," Jack sounded a little frightened now, "You can put him on."

"And Jack, please don't…Well, just know that you're not going to be happy with this man, but just remember, I trust him."

"Alex, you're frightening me."

"Sorry, I seem to do that a lot." Alex said before handing the phone to Yassen.

"I'll wait outside again." He told the Russian.

"Jack Starbright?" Yassen hoped he'd remembered her last name correctly.

"Um, just Jack. Who is this?" Jack still sounded scared, but Yassen could still hear the strength underneath.

Yassen hesitated. This was the hard part. He didn't really care whether or not Jack actually liked him, but he didn't want to upset her too badly for Alex's sake.

"My name's Yassen Gregorovich," He said slowly, "I'm taking care of Alex."

There was a long moment where Yassen could hear Jack's strangled sounding breathing on the other end of the line.

"Y-you're the one killed Ian," Jack said in an eerie, flat voice, "I thought you were dead. Alex told me you were."

"Well, Alex wasn't to know that I was, in actual fact, still alive," Yassen said warily, wondering if Jack was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, "He only found out about my continued existence very recently, on the day he disappeared."

"A-and you have Alex with you now." It was a statement, not a question. "Are you going to hurt him?"

"No, that's the last thing I want to do." Yassen said calmly. He genuinely felt bad for this woman; he could sense her love for Alex behind her words. He knew that he must frighten her. He thought she must be very brave to be able to talk to him so levelly.

"Then why can't you let him come home?" Jack demanded.

"That's not my decision to make," Yassen explained, "You see, MI6 know Alex is with me. They now want both of us dead."

Yassen heard Jack's sharp intake of air and gave her a moment to collect herself.

"But he's safe as long as he's with you?" Jack had managed to bring herself back under control, "Right?"

"I'm doing my best to take care of him," Yassen told her. He hoped that being truthful with Jack was the right approach to take, "I can't guarantee anything however."

"Please," Jack said, "That's not enough. Can you please promise me you won't let anyone hurt him? I don't trust you and I certainly don't like you, but I can tell Alex does. So, I'm asking you to promise me on that basis that you won't let anyone hurt Alex and that you'll keep him safe."

Yassen hesitated. He knew that refusing Jack would upset her, and he knew that it would upset Alex as well if he was to hear of it. On the other hand, Jack's promise wasn't one he could be guaranteed to keep. He wanted to do the right thing by Jack, but this was something that he knew he had to take seriously.

"Mr. Gregorovich? Jack said, "I know that considering what's going on right now, I'm asking you to make a very difficult promise. However, I think if anyone can keep it, it's you."

Yassen winced at the desperation in Jack's voice. In the back of his head, a small voice was screaming at him to say no, that he couldn't keep her promise, but Yassen ignored it. With a sigh, he gave in.

"Alright, I'll do that," he said, "I promise I'll keep Alex safe for you."

"Thankyou," Jack said quietly, "Now I'll go. I won't say goodbye to Alex, I think that it might do more harm then good."

Then, Jack hung up. Slowly, Yassen removed the phone from his ear and hung up. He looked over at Chris.

"We should have told Alex no," He said, eyes boring into the Australian, "We should never have let him make the call."

Chris nodded sombrely.

"I thought as much. I only allowed him to call Jack because I thought there was a slight chance that it would bring closure, as you said. I see now I was wrong."

Yassen sighed and passed the phone back to the Australian.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now." He admitted, looking very tired.

Chris sighed.

"My advice? Distract Alex. It's not really effective long-term, but you can at least keep him from thinking about Jack too much until you two are ready to go see the psychologist. Which, by the way, I suggest you do very soon.

Yassen laughed humourlessly.

"Distract Alex from thinking about the closest thing he has to family. No problem."

Chris shrugged.

"It works short-term. I have a teenage daughter; I used that tactic on her when her Mother died. She loves horses, so I bought her one. Find out what Alex likes and try to use it to make him happy."

Yassen couldn't help but frown.

"It seems wrong, to try and sidetrack Alex from someone who he loves."

"I know," Chris admitted, "But you have to. Otherwise Alex is bound to become even more depressed then what he is already and I think you agree with me that given his current state that would be dangerous."

After giving the phone to Yassen, Alex had left Chris' office. Feeling restless, Alex had decided against waiting outside. He didn't really want to be able to hear what Yassen said to Jack anyway. He was miserable enough as it was.

So Alex decided to try and find something to keep himself occupied with until Yassen was finished talking to Jack. Walking down the hallway, Alex eventually found an exit. Curious, he followed it outside to a square, flat patch of ground. Goals had been placed at each end and there was a group of about six (four men and two women) playing football.

Alex watched for awhile, noting that whilst they weren't especially skilled, all of the players were very fast and obviously had a great deal of endurance. Eventually, one of the women managed to kick a goal that went in over the keeper's head. Her team cheered triumphantly whilst the others swore cheerfully. The woman herself made no sound and then Alex recognised her. It was Zarina, with her hair tied back and without the sunglasses.

Turning around, she recognised him. With a smile, she waved one of the men over. The man shouted to the rest of the people that they'd be back in a minute. Together, the two of them walked over.

"Hi Zarina." Alex said, trying to sound cheerful.

Zarina seemed to realise something was amiss however, because, using sign language, she said something quickly to her friend. He nodded, said something in Arabic to her and turned to Alex.

"I'm Walid," He said by way of introduction, "I'm here to 'translate' for Zarina. You don't know sign language, do you?"

Alex shook his head mutely. Walid nodded to himself.

"Well, that's why I'm here. Zarina wants to know if you're alright."

Alex gave a lopsided smile and looked at Zarina. He didn't have any problem with Walid having to speak for her. It didn't affect conversation really; she was mute not deaf.

"Not exactly, but don't worry. I just made a mistake and ended up hurting the woman who was my guardian in London. Yassen's talking to her now."

Alex waited whilst Zarina signed to Walid.

"Do you worry about what Yassen would say to her?"

Alex shrugged.

"A little I suppose. It's not that I think he'd be cruel or anything, I just don't know if he'd say the right thing for Jack."

"I know it's hard to believe, but Yassen can actually be very sensitive. He'll say the right thing."

Alex gave a small smile of gratitude.

"Thanks Zarina. You can go back to playing football if you want, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Zarina smiled brightly and shook her head. Walid smiled as well.

"It's alright, we were winning anyway."

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

"There you are Alex." Yassen was obviously finished in Chris' office; he walked out from the building, looking concerned. "I wondered where you'd gone."

Alex didn't look up from his feet.

"Well, you found me."

Yassen paused, looking at Alex with concern flickering in his blue eyes. Zarina, noticing it, signed something to Walid. The Tunisian man nodded and walked over to Alex.

"Why don't you come play football with us for a few minutes? I think Zarina and Yassen need to speak."

Alex nodded and followed Walid back to the game. Watching him go, Yassen shook his head.

"He worries me." Yassen said quietly. Zarina nodded sympathetically and Yassen watched carefully as she signed to him. He was fairly proficient in reading sign language, but he had to concentrate to understand the entire message.

"You're doing your best though."

Yassen still looked unhappy though. He shook his head slightly.

"What if that's not enough though?" He asked, "What if I can't do the right thing?"

"You shouldn't think like that; you'll do fine if you believe in yourself. I know that you're capable of doing what needs to be done."

"I really hope so." Yassen said, watching Alex. He was interested to see the way he joined the football game easily and how his conversation with Jack hadn't affected his playing abilities. Yassen thought of Chris' advice and thought that maybe he had something to distract Alex with. Not perturbed by the silence that had fallen between them, Zarina watched Alex as well for awhile.

"How have you been?" She asked, watching him closely.

Yassen smiled.

"I should be the one asking you that. But since I didn't…I'm alright I guess. Withdrawal is kicking in."

"How's that for you? Besides the obvious…"

Yassen shrugged morosely.

"It worries me actually. It's only been a few days, but already I feel like I'm going insane. I still can't sleep, I have no appetite and I'm pretty depressed. I swear, between worrying about Alex and giving up cocaine, I'm going to die an early death from stress."

Zarina looked sad.

"Don't say that. I'd be miserable without you. Who else would I go to for unnecessary grovelling and apologies?"

Yassen laughed humourlessly.

"See, now you're being too kind. I still owe you a lot for forgiving me after North Korea."

"Oh for Fuck's…Look, this is the last time I'll say this: Yes you messed up in North Korea, yes you were selfish and yes you didn't think. However, I forgive you. If you can't accept that, then perhaps we should not be friends."

Yassen grinned.

"That's very unladylike language, even for you."

Zarina narrowed her eyes.

"And what exactly is that meant to mean?"

Yassen raised his brows.

"Nothing whatsoever," he said cheerfully, "Now I'm going to get Alex."

Miserable as he was, Alex was more then happy to lose himself in the football. As Zarina was busy talking to Yassen, he took her place as striker. The position suited him well as his small size and fast feet made him hard for opposing players to keep track of. Within five minutes of joining the game, Alex had scored one goal for his team and was close to taking another when he was slide-tackled by an opposing defence player.

Unable to steady himself in time, Alex tumbled roughly to the hard-packed ground, taking the goalie with him. He gave a shocked yell that was quickly cut off when the goalie accidentally kneed him in the stomach. Coughing and spitting out dirt, Alex weakly crawled away a few steps before managing to sit up.

"Hey, you okay?" The player who'd taken him down in the first place was standing over him, looking half repentant, half amused, "Do you need a hand?"

Alex just shook his head, rubbing his stomach. As luck would have it, he'd been kneed in the exact same place that Jun had kicked him in. The player leaning over him crouched down beside him suddenly.

"No offence kid, but that's from Jun. He paid me to do it." He whispered before walking off, laughing something in Spanish.

Still winded, Alex wasn't able to mutter the curses that came to mind. Instead, he was reduced to kneeling bent over, holding his stomach. Presently, he heard footsteps running over in his direction. Wheezing, Alex straightened up and saw Yassen leaning over him.

"What happened?" The Russian asked, "Honestly, I leave you alone for two minutes…"

Alex smiled humourlessly.

"What do you think happened?" He asked testily, "I tripped."

Perhaps something was wrong in Alex's voice because suspicion flickered in Yassen's eyes. The Russian looked over his shoulder where play had resumed. The player who'd knocked Alex over didn't look away from the ball he was running towards the goal. Shaking his head and muttering in exasperated sounding Russian, Yassen sighed and turned back to Alex, offering his hand.

Taking it, Alex hauled himself up to his feet. He gave a half-hearted cough and rubbed his stomach gingerly.

"I don't think I'll be playing football again for awhile."

For some reason, that seemed to upset Yassen a great deal.

"I know you probably won't be too happy about this, but we're going to see the psychologist tomorrow."

Alex raised a brow. He'd been in his room since returning to the apartment, playing mindless PS3 games. He'd just come out of his room looking for something to eat when Yassen had decided to drop the 'psychologist' bombshell.

"You're right," he said, "I'm not happy about it. I went to therapy with MI6, it sucked. I'd always had nightmares, but therapy made them worse. I didn't sleep for three days straight because I was too afraid of waking up screaming. In the end, Jack had to get sedatives for me."

Yassen didn't know what to say, so he changed the subject.

"I was talking to Chris."

"And?"

"He said that as wrong as it sounds, it's probably not healthy to fixate on Jack right now."

Alex's eyes darkened and Yassen saw straight away that this was not going to be a good conversation.

"Really?" Alex asked dangerously, "And what else did Chris say?"

Yassen wondered if perhaps now would be the time to shut his mouth. He figured he should try to talk to Alex though and see if there was any way that worked for both of them to try and keep things…upbeat.

"He said that you should focus on something besides Jack,"

Alex snorted and savagely ripped open the fridge.

"Whatever. Chris can shove his advice up his well informed-"

"-Alex!" Yassen said warningly, "Don't even start that."

Alex looked at Yassen sourly.

"Start what?"

"You know what," Yassen said sternly, "And watch your language too. It's unprofessional and quite frankly, annoying. It makes you sound brainless as well."

Alex snorted again and slammed the fridge door shut.

"Is there anything to eat in here?"

"Don't bother," Yassen sighed, walking around the kitchen island, "I'm going to cook dinner now."

Alex stopped and stared at Yassen.

"You can cook?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Yassen said flatly, "As well as clean and iron. Amazing isn't it? I'm a regular housewife."

Alex smothered a smile and tried to adopt a nonchalant tone.

"What are you making?" He asked.

Yassen shrugged and began looking the cupboards.

"I don't know yet. What do you want?"

Alex thought about it, and a possible peace offering occurred to him.

"If I'm going to have to learn Russian, maybe I could get to like the food? Apart from caviar, what's an example of Russian cuisine?"

Yassen smiled. He knew that Alex was trying to make peace and he appreciated the effort. Also, he happened to like the food of his homeland, it reminded him of the rapidly fading days before Estrov blew sky-high.

"I could make Pelmeny," He said carelessly, "its meat wrapped in pastry, similar to dumplings. Or maybe you'd like Fish Kchuch better?"

"The fish," Alex said decisively, "I'm still not over the whole pushing Donati into a meat shredding machine thing."

Yassen looked tempted to roll his eyes.

"As you wish. It'll take the best part of an hour to cook. What are you going to do until then?"

Alex shrugged in a non-committal manner.

"I don't know…Go back to Playstation games?"

"That sounds like such a waste of time," Yassen remarked, "Surely you can think of something more productive to do?"

Alex half scowled.

"You're taking this whole foster parent thing way too seriously," he said, "What have you got against video games?"

Yassen shook his head.

"They're pointless and there's a link between an excess of time spent playing those games and childhood obesity."

Alex grinned suddenly.

"But they also improve hand-eye coordination," he pointed out, "Which I'm going to need for training right?"

Yassen sighed.

"You know what? You're annoying me. Just put a movie on. All the DVD's are in the rack underneath the TV. You choose one."

Alex laughed shortly before flicking through the extensive range of movies. After awhile, he stopped and started laughing in earnest.

"Is this some sort of a joke?" He asked in amused disbelief. Yassen raised a brow.

"What?"

Alex held up something in his hand.

"A collector's edition of Casino Royale?" He asked, "A James Bond DVD? Here?"

Yassen grinned suddenly.

"Put them on, I've never seen any of them."

Shaking his head, Alex laughed once more and did as he was told.

To Alex's surprise, Yassen enjoyed the movie. He'd been expecting continuous, scathing criticisms from the Russian. However, whilst he gave a few snobby remarks on the beginning sequence in Prague (Yassen said he would have come up with better lines if he had have been in 007's position), Yassen shut up and became engulfed in the movie. The only time he spoke again was to remark that Vesper was bound to be a traitor. He was immensely smug in discovering his prediction to be true.

As the movie ended, something that had been bugging Alex clicked in his head. Burning, he could smell burning. Startled, by it, he jumped to his feet and turned around to look into the kitchen. Yassen did likewise and a small expression of consternation crossed the Russian's face.

"The food," He said, "Shit."

Looking irritated, Yassen opened the oven up and pulled out what resembled a baking tray shaped person suffering third degree burns. Mildly put out, Yassen regarded the meal sourly, as if expecting the burnt mass to return the motion with an apology. After a few experiments with a kitchen knife however, Yassen gave a satisfied grunt.

"It's just the top that's burnt."

Alex, who'd fallen back into a sullen sort of quiet during the movie, slowly got up from the couch and walked over.

"I thought you said you could cook?"

Yassen shot Alex a nasty look, mildly offended.

"If you don't want it, go hungry."

Alex shrugged and found two plates in one of the kitchen cabinets. He put one down in front of Yassen and kept the other for himself.

"I never said I wouldn't eat it. I just said that I thought you could cook."

"I can cook," Yassen said waspishly, feeling slightly absurd for getting caught in such a childish argument, "When I'm not distracted by James Bloody Bond. I'd never seen one of the 007 films before, I didn't realize they were going to be so diverting."

Alex just raised a brow at the Russian's tone and helped himself to a slab of the Fish Kchuch.

Once they'd managed to serve themselves portions of the Kchuch (with the burnt pastry surface carefully picked off) and sit themselves down at the dinner table, a semi awkward silence fell. Yassen tolerated it for a few minutes before putting down his glass of 1955 Château Cheval Blanc (part of him was screaming obscenities for drinking such an expensive wine so flippantly) and fixing Alex with a keen stare.

"You're quiet." Yassen guessed a simple statement might be a better way to start a conversation then a question Alex might interpret as pressure.

Alex looked up and Yassen was surprised to see the expression on his face. Trapped and more then a little afraid. For some reason, it brought to Yassen's mind a young child hiding in a closet.

"I don't want to see the psychologist tomorrow." He said in a small voice. Between the phone call to Jack, and the prospect of seeing the psychologist, Alex's nonchalant façade seemed to have been lost in his fear and misery.

Alex's obvious distress caused something in Yassen's gut to twist uncomfortably. For an inexplicable reason, a sudden memory flickered to life.

"I don't want to see the doctor." Yassen snapped, eyes flashing dangerously.

Vera looked torn between annoyance and worry. She looked to her husband for help. He just looked tired. He'd been working all day, trying to do his own work as well as that of a sick colleague's and wasn't in the mood for his son's antics now.

"Yassen, your wrist is broken and that cut over your eye needs stitching," He said wearily, "So you need to see the doctor."

"I don't care," Yassen said resentfully, "I'm fine."

"Well, talk to the police then. They can at least do something about the boys who beat you."

Yassen snorted derisively, exuding a lot of bitterness for a thirteen year old.

"I doubt it."

Something suddenly flickered through his father's face and he stood angrily from his seat.

"You started the fight!" He growled in realisation, "This is the third one this week!"

Yassen didn't say anything, choosing instead to smirk. He could have told his parents that the reason he got into so many fights was because of Sergey, the Party Official's son. Sergey had been taunting Yassen as usual, but this time, he'd crossed a line. He'd targeted Nastya, calling her a slut and a whore and spitting at her. So, Yassen had hit Sergey. In return, Sergey's older and much larger friends had joined the fight…

Yassen shook himself angrily. He tried not to think about Estrov, about his family. He definitely hadn't thought of Nastya in a long time. In fact, this was the first time in maybe years that she'd crossed his mind. Yassen looked at Alex appraisingly, thinking that there wasn't much difference between Alex and Nastya. Both had been (and in Alex's case) still were very much victims of uncontrollable circumstances, both running from their demons.

"What?" Alex had noticed Yassen's scrutiny.

Yassen pressed his lips together grimly and shook his head.

"Nothing."

Alex watched Yassen for a few more seconds before going back to his meal. Realizing he'd effectively just screwed up, Yassen sighed.

"I'm sorry Alex," He said sadly, "I didn't mean to ignore you."

Alex shrugged and Yassen was struck by the knowing look in the boy's brown eyes.

"It's alright."

"No, really," Yassen tried again, growing angry at himself now, "I'm listening. Why don't you want to go to the psychologist? Is it the nightmares?"

Alex regarded Yassen for a long moment, as if suspecting duplicity on his part. Then, seeing the sincerity in Yassen's face, he relaxed.

"Partly," Alex admitted, "But it's mostly because…because I'm afraid of what they'll find."

As was becoming the norm, Yassen didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth to try and offer something by way of sympathy, but then shut it again and went back to eating. The truth was he knew Alex's situation all too well. There really wasn't much you could say.

Hahaha, I bet you're all wondering who the mysterious 'Nastya' is 'ey?? Lol, you'll never in a million years guess it. However, her tormentor, Sergey is going to be reappearing sooner or later. I don't know when or in what context yet, but he will.

Also, the 'Butcher Dogs' are going to star in their own scene too. In fact, one of them in particular will be sticking around for awhile. If you're interested, ask me ;)

Sorry by the Way for the Casino Royale spoilers if you hadn't seen the movie ..'

Oh yeah, and a lot of the stuff in this chappie was inspired by the song 'Teardrop' by Massive Attack...