Sorry you've been waiting so long for updates; I've been having issues. Issues which come in the form of AS-level exams and revision. I know someone said 'kill all the lawyers', but could we squeeze in the examiners first?

Or, teachers are good. Let's kill them, THEN the examiners, and THEN the lawyers.

Right. OK. Focussed. Story. Let's go.

DISCLAIMER: Anthony Horowitz and I have nothing in common, except that we both write about Alex Rider. He gets paid to do it. I don't.

"Um… no." Alex said, quickly. Eagle's eyes gleamed and he suddenly realised that that was the wrong thing to say. "I mean – yes! Yes, I have had the Talk."

"You don't sound too sure…"

"I'm sure." He said, firmly. "Totally, one hundred percent sure."

"Really? Or are you just trying to evade it?" Eagle leant his elbows on his knees, and peered at him, raising on eyebrow. "I think you're just too embarrassed to say that you need to learn these things. And there's no shame in not knowing, Alex. Think how much worse it could be, if you had to admit to your girlfriend that you didn't know these things." He paused. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Neal, shut up." Wolf said, crisply. "We've got more important things to deal with than Cub's sex life. Or the lack of it. Whatever."

Alex shut his eyes, and silently wished for some sort of fatal accident to happen, while he was sat there. Something of the piano-falling-through-ceiling-and-taking-him-with-it variety. He could only hope he wasn't going bright red, but he had a feeling it was a lost cause.

"Cub, this gunshot wound of yours…"

"C'mon, Jamie, lighten up a little!" Eagle protested.

"Be serious for a while, Neal!" James retorted. "The kid got shot a month and a half ago, and you're worrying about whether he knows the ins and outs of sex?"

"It's OK." Alex intervened. "The bullet wound, I mean. Though, the, um, the sex thing is OK, too." He could have bitten his tongue out the moment he'd said it.

"More than OK, I'd have said." Eagle said, with a humorous fake-leer.

"I mean, it's… the Talk… it's OK, I don't need it…"

"Alex, I got this a month ago." Wolf said, impatiently, ignoring Eagle, and their pseudo-conversation. "And I'm going to have PT to deal with it for the next two months, at least, to make sure that it's totally healed. They should at least be helping you with your cardiovascular fitness, if nothing else, and I'm sure there's been more damage done than has been fixed, if only in muscle tone, or whatever." He looked at Snake, with faint hint of pleading in his eyes which shocked Alex no end. Apparently this revelation had shocked Wolf more than he'd expected. "Back me up here?"

"He's right." Snake said, his softly-accented voice calm. "You should have been having regular check ups. When's the last time you were seen by a doctor?"

"Um – when I got discharged?" Alex tried, uncertainly. "Is – is that bad?"

"'Is that bad'?!" Wolf quoted back at him, incredulously. "Hijoputa! You haven't been seen by a doctor for a month and a half, when you got shot in the heart! I could have maybe understood not having PT – just – but, not even getting check ups…!"

Alex stared at him, puzzled. "No one else as been this worked up about this." He said, in confusion. "I don't understand why you're so – why is it such a big deal?"

Wolf stood up abruptly. "I'm going to get a drink." He said, sharply, and walked into the kitchen. Alex heard a thud, the distinctive sound of a boot kicking something wooden. He flinched, and Snake, catching the flinch, immediately stood up to go to the kitchen, before Wolf did anything serious. He gave the other two serious looks, obviously telling them to try and deal with.

The sound of muffled swearing came from the kitchen, and Alex glanced worriedly in that direction, then looked at the other two.

"I'm sorry." He said, in a low voice. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening in or anything." He paused. "I mean, I know getting shot in the chest isn't good, or whatever, but…" he shrugged, rather helplessly. "Everyone else just seems to have forgotten about it."

"Yeah. Well, James gets kind of pissy when his team gets injured."

"I'm not in his team." Alex pointed out, reasonably.

"You are and you aren't. Plus, you're a kid he's supposed to be looking after. I guess – it was just a shock, OK?" They were both looking uncomfortable. "Maybe just go in there and tell him, calmly, what he needs to know. That might work."

"OK." Alex stood up. "Thank you." He said, softly. Fox nodded, and gave him a quick grin, and Eagle waved him off, with a parting shot of,

"You know, I can still give you the Talk if you want…maybe later...?"

Alex fled.

Snake had managed to calm Wolf down almost totally by the time Alex arrived in the kitchen.

"Look, Wolf…" Alex said, slowly, leaning rather awkwardly against one of the work tops, watching the man his guardian carefully. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, OK? But, honestly, I just forgot. I didn't mean to, keep you in the dark, or whatever."

Wolf himself took a deep breath. "Right. So, now that you've… remembered… what am I supposed to be doing about it?"

Alex shrugged. "Nothing, I don't think. I mean, Jack – my guardian," he floundered for a second. After all, technically, Wolf was his guardian at the moment, "I mean, my, er… my old guardian – she didn't do anything. And the hospital doesn't seem to think that it's very important, because I haven't heard from them since."

"Are you up to date on your tetanus jab?" The man asked, quietly.

"I – think so."

"There's no way a hospital wouldn't give him that, just in case. Not if he'd just had a gunshot wound." Snake said, quietly. "Or, at the least, they'd have checked up on it." He glanced at Alex. "You do have regular medical check ups, right?"

"Not exactly…"

"But, MI6 call you in regularly for physicals, don't they?"

"Not exactly." He bit his lip, catching their puzzled frowns. "Look, I guess I'm just too young. I mean, I guess they assume that I'm going to be going to my own GP, or whatever." He was rather reluctant to go into the details of his position within MI6 with these men, for reasons he wasn't entirely willing to clarify, even to himself.

"Good luck explaining the gunshot wound to your local doctor." Wolf muttered.

"Yeah." He said, rather awkwardly, wrapping his arms round himself.

"Right." Snake said, after a pause. "Well, what medicine are you on?"

"I can't remember." Alex admitted, very quietly. "I'll go and get it, OK?" Snake nodded, wordlessly.

There was silence in the kitchen for a few minutes, until Alex came back a few moments later, and handed a box to the sandy-haired man. Snake looked at it for a few seconds, carefully reading the label, and checking inside it.

"Codeine." He muttered to himself, frowning slightly. "I'd have prescribed something a little stronger than this for a gunshot wound, personally, but, I'm not a doctor. I guess they doctor knew what he was doing…"

"He said, he'd have recommended something stronger, and called me back more often." Alex said, softly, not wanting to interrupt the man, but not able to let that pass. "But, apparently 'someone' told him not to give me any very strong opiates, in case I got addicted to them After all, there's no one who could really regulate me for it, and MI6 couldn't afford to have me addicted to anything. He said he was taking a risk prescribing me codeine."

"Oh. Ok, then." Snake nodded, and read on in silence for a few moments. "This," he said, finally, gesturing with the instructions, "says that you should be taking it fairly regularly – every four to six hours, as you need it." He looked back up at Alex. "Why haven't you? I mean, it says it for moderate to severe pain, and I'm guessing you're feeling that."

"I…" he paused, carefully ordering his thoughts before he spoke. "Well, like the doctor said, codeine's an opiate. I didn't want to get addicted, especially not when I know that I can deal with the pain, like I do. And…" he frowned, trying to phrase what he wanted to say, "The side effects are nasty. Especially the ones which warn about light-headedness, dizziness, and drowsiness. I mean, I never know when I'm going to have to go on a mission, there's no point me being light-headed, and all the rest."

"But there is a point in you being half-crippled with pain?" Wolf asked, heavy sarcasm colouring his tone. "And…" he frowned, "Aren't you off the active duty roster anyway?"

"I'm a fourteen year old spy." Alex pointed out. "I'm not on or off any duty roster anywhere. They can't exactly put me down on any of their lists."

"Fair point." He acknowledged. "Look, Cub – after Bear, um, beat you up, and all," he was wearing a strange expression of mixed anger and guilt and awkwardness, "I'd really prefer it if you'd go down to the hospital. I'll take you to the one where you were treated before, if you want, but… you should get checked over."

Alex shrugged. "I will if it gets any worse." He agreed, and Wolf sighed, dragging a hand over his face in a defeated gesture. "But, at the moment, there's no change. There's no point going."

Snake nodded, a look of resignation on his own face, and Wolf opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it, and shrugged, said, quietly,

"OK. But, if anything even seems to be wrong, we're going to the hospital."

"Why…" Alex began.

"Because, this is a gunshot wound to the chest, Cub." Wolf interrupted, shortly. "I'm not playing around with something that serious." His tone was final, and Alex couldn't be bothered to contradict him.

"Start taking these pills." Snake suggested, rather more gently, handing them back to him. "And, if I were you, I'd have a check up anyway. Just in case."

"Yeah, OK." Alex had no intention of doing it, but he nodded anyway. "Sure. I'm going to go to bed, OK?" he looked at Wolf who shrugged and nodded. "I'll do the washing up tomorrow."

"Nah, don't worry about it." Wolf waved him off. "I'll make Eagle do it."

Alex smiled a little. "OK."

"Night, Cub."

"Sleep well." Snake said, as he left. Alex shot him a quick, slightly awkward smile, surprised by his friendliness. He didn't notice Snake's watchful, assessing expression as he watched him leave.

Alex woke before Wolf the next morning, and was showered, dressed and practically ready to go before the man reached the kitchen.

Absently, he put the kettle on, and grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard, spooning instant coffee into them, trying to learn the words he'd been set for his French test. By the time Wolf walked into the kitchen, looking through the early morning post, the coffee was ready, and he silently handed it to the man, still trying to fix the French for various household objects firmly in his mind.

He was only drawn out of his revision by Wolf's voice, saying, quietly, "You didn't mention a school trip to me."

He looked up at him. "…Sorry?"

"Your school trip." Alex frowned, puzzled, and he handed over the letter he was reading. "To the Science Museum, I think."

Quickly, Alex read it through. "Yeah. This Friday." He shrugged, and handed it back. "I don't know anything about it. Maybe I missed the day when they announced it. Or maybe, they're going to tell us today."

"Probably." Wolf frowned down at it, clutching his coffee in one hand like it was a life line. After a few more minutes silence, during which Alex repeated the French for 'armchair' a couple of times in his head, and poured himself a bowl of cereal, the man sighed, and said, quietly, "Well, I guess I'd better go."

Alex nearly dropped the milk, along with his vocabulary book. "I'm sorry, what?"

"They're asking for parents or guardians to volunteer as help for this trip of yours." Wolf said, sipping his coffee. "Have you got a pen? I've got to fill this form out for you to go on this thing."

Wordlessly, Alex handed over a pen. After a couple of seconds, once he'd got his thoughts together, he said, unable to keep all the traces of shock out of his voice, "Why would you want to come one this trip, as a parent helper?"

Wolf looked up from where he was bent over the table, filling in the form. "I'm assuming everyone else at that school thinks you've had appendicitis?"

"Yes. So?"

"Well, what if something goes wrong?" Wolf asked, reasonably, handing the pen and the now-completed form back to him. Automatically, Alex put them back into his bag. "If I wasn't there, and something went wrong, there'd be no one who knew what was really happening."

"Oh…. OK." Alex said, still dealing with his surprise. "Well, um… thanks, I guess."

"S'OK. I'll apply for time off work." He flashed him a sudden, rare grin, and said, "I mean, Science Museum, or desk work? Science Museum wins hands down." Alex gave him a tentative grin in response. "And it's not like MI6 can refuse to let me have time off to do something for you, when they're the reason you're staying here."

Alex nodded. "Thanks." He repeated, softly. "I've, er… I've gotta go. See you this evening?"

"Yeah." Wolf gave him a small smile before he left.

Alex smiled back, and left, feeling almost confident in his home-situation for the first time. This didn't seem to be a flash in the pan, like the one before it had been. This time, it seemed like things might actually be bearable for the next few months.

"Alex!" Tom yelled, as he wheeled his bike into the school ground, running over to him. "So…" he skidded to a halt, and took a deep breath. "You said you'd tell me. What happened?"

"What…?"

"Your face." Tom said, looking down at him, while Alex secured his bike.

"Got beaten up."

"So you said." Tom frowned. "By who? Was it anything to do with you know what?"

"Sort of. It was someone in my guardian's SAS team."

"The SAS have teams?"

"Obviously." Alex said, standing up. "Four members in each of them. He was a temporary replacement while Wolf – my guardian – is off-duty. He got shot in the leg." He said, quickly, seeing the question on his friend's face.

"You call him 'Wolf'? Weird. Doesn't he have a name?"

Alex paused. He hadn't really thought about it, but it probably was a bit strange that he called the man who was supposedly looking after him – however unorthodox his 'method' might be – 'Wolf'. They'd mentioned it before, that he should call him 'James', very briefly, but he'd never really thought about it.

"Yeah." He said, slowly. "Yeah, he does. James."

"You should probably call him that, mate. At least at school, if nothing else, or you'll be answering a lot of questions about that…"

"Yeah. Thanks, Tom." He shook himself free of his thoughts. "You'll meet him this Friday, anyway."

"I will? Sweet!" Tom grinned, practically bouncing on their way to first lesson, English. Alex hadn't used to be in the same set as Tom, but since MI6 had got their claws into him, his grades had slipped to such an extent that they were in the same set. "Why this Friday?"

"He volunteered as one of the parent helpers on this trip we're going on." Alex said, a trace of the same surprise he'd felt when Wolf had announced it still in his voice. "I don't know why. Maybe he thinks it'll be a bonding experience, or something."

"I can't wait to see our year being looked after by a member of the SAS. It'll be fun to watch, if nothing else. Do you think he'll shoot the people who annoy him too much?" Tom grinned, but by this point they were outside their English classroom, and Alex could only roll his eyes in response; they slipped inside without any further conversation.

Alex had forgotten, in the shock of this morning, about his bruises, and the reaction they were bound to illicit. So, it took him a couple of moments to work out why he was inspiring so much whispering today; until he overheard some of it.

"D'you think he couldn't pay his drug dealer back?"

"I heard his guardian beats him." Their partner, whoever it was, whispered back, and Alex couldn't stop the smirk that made its way onto his face. That would be something to tell Wolf, if he didn't think that the man would either search them out and give them a stern talking to, or calmly try to strangle the pair of them.

The first two classes went very calmly. It was the last class before break, Maths, when Alex ran into a problem.

"Alex!" his teacher called, as he was nearly out the door. He was tempted to act like he hadn't heard him, but he knew that, in the case of this particular teacher, it would just be delaying the inevitable. With a sigh, he stopped, let everyone past him, and made his way back to the teacher's desk.

"Yes, sir?" he said, forcing himself to be polite. The man's face was a mask of sympathetic sincerity, and Alex was hit by a sinking feeling. Whatever was coming next, he was not going to enjoy.

"Alex, I don't know what my colleagues would think of this," the man began, slowly, locking eyes with him, and holding out his hands, as if to show he posed no threat. Alex narrowed his eyes. It was almost as if the man was going out of his way to act like he was harmless. "But, I wanted to ask you a few questions about your home life."

Alex frowned. "Why?"

"Well," The teacher, Mr. Robinson, looked at Alex's bruised face, making a gesture designed to encompass all of his injuries. "Suddenly, a few months back, you start missing school – your grades start slipping… you come in after each absence with various fading bruises, or injuries… I'm sure you can understand our concern."

"My Uncle died a few months back, sir." Alex said, quietly. "I'm sure you can understand that I'm more than a little upset…"

"Grief doesn't cause bruises like the ones you have, Alex." Mr. Robinson said, kindly. "Who do you live with now that your uncle is dead?"

Briefly, Alex considered explaining the whole situation with Jack, and her father, and his temporary stay with Wolf, and just as quickly discarded the idea. It just wasn't worth the hassle. "My guardian – um, James." He managed to stop himself saying 'Wolf'. God only knew what repercussions that could cause. "I mean, Mr. San Luca…"

"Why do you feel like you have to call him by his surname?" Mr. Robinson's voice was coaxing, and Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"For the same reason I'd call you 'Mr. Robinson' to him. Sir." He pointed out, "You don't know him. I figured you'd want to call him by his surname."

"What do you call him, Alex?"

When did maths teachers have a side line in psychiatry, anyway? "James, sir." He told him. "After all, he's my guardian. I've been living with him for nearly a year now."

"Right. And – Alex, do you get on with him?"

Alex thought of the ten days he'd spent in Wales, with Wolf belittling him, stopping only just short of physical violence in most cases, and the immense satisfaction he'd felt at being given an excuse to kick the man out of a plane.

He was jerked back to the present by Mr. Robinson saying, quietly, "Alex?" He was met by the man's sympathetic eyes, a gentle smile on his face. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." He said, quickly. Too quickly, he realised, as Robinson's smile became even gentler and more sympathetic. "I get on with – James, just fine."

"And how does Mr. San Luca treat you?"

Suddenly, Alex just wanted to get out of this classrooms, away from the teacher with all his innuendos of abuse, and all the suspicion of it. "He treats me just fine." He said, sharply, then realised that all he'd managed to do was make himself sound defensive.

"Right." The man nodded, gently. "So, Alex… Has Mr. San Luca ever hurt you?" Alex stared at him. "Have you ever been hurt, while in his care?"

Images of Bear's fists merged into the various incidents he'd had with pain over the last eight or so months, and he had to almost physically shake himself to be rid of them.

"Alex, I can help you." Robinson said, quietly, obviously mistaking his silence for reticence, or fear. "I can protect you…."

"He's never hurt me." He said, decisively. "James, I mean. He's never – he's never hurt me. He's done a lot for me, letting me live with him, and… and all that." He realised he'd said the wrong thing, as Robinson said, reaching new levels of gentleness, as though he was afraid that Alex was going to bolt,

"I'm going to talk to my colleagues about this, alright, Alex?"

"You don't need to do that, sir." He said, just managing to keep the desperation out of his voice. God knew what MI6 would do to keep his secret identity secret, but he had a horrible feeling that they wouldn't flinch from systematically murdering every last member of staff at Brooklands, if it came down to it. "Mr. San Luca – he's good. He's good to me, I mean." He looked at the man, and realised that he could say nothing to change his mind. Making a mental note to talk to Wolf about it, he said, abruptly. "I need to go. I'm … I'm going to be late. For my next lesson."

He didn't wait for the man's reply.

Just what he needed. Something else to deal with.

Do tell.

Ami xxx