A/N: Happy Monday! Ooooh... we're nearly in the end game. I'm getting excited. As always, I adore your comments though I'm awful at responding in a timely manner. See you next week!
O
Four days into their stay in Oakris, Yassen finally stumbled on the right message board at the right time. An up-and-coming identity broker with several decent examples of his work messaged him back, willing to take on new clients. Normally, Yassen wouldn't consider it: the depth of background he could provide was limited, if still genuine, and Yassen couldn't contact any previous clients who'd worked with him personally for obvious reasons.
It would be a start. That was the important thing.
Alex slammed the door shut behind him, Purdy yowling in his arms. He'd taken to wandering through town or along the mountainside with his feline companion along for occasional company. While Yassen still had to suppress a nervous twitch every time he left unsupervised, he decided to take it as a good sign. Alex was showing interest in exploring and it was a testament to his improved health that he had the energy to do so at all. His appetite had already improved and his hallucinations were growing less pressing by the day. Mood swings were far more frequent, but Yassen decided that was more circumstantial than anything else. The important thing was that the boy was active.
It was a good thing, he reminded himself.
Briar had suggested he help Alex to regain a sense of independence. He couldn't entirely, of course- the absence seizures ensured that, even as the rest of his health improved. The stuff about holding the pills to his mouth had also worried her, but she had decided that it wasn't a genuine desire for death. Rather, an effort to feel in control, since the boy couldn't feel independant. Thus, Yassen could help encourage one set of behavior to decrease the need for the other. Yassen wasn't entirely sure he agreed with her, but it wasn't like he had any better ideas. A little independance might go a long way.
Enacting the idea was a whole different problem altogether. It felt a little unnatural being less involved, even though their current arrangement was technically so recent. While Yassen made a point of being nearby whenever they were both in the cabin, he'd dialed down his reminders to Alex about looking after his health. Had suggested the boy come up with his own morning workout routine. Made the effort to give Alex his space as much as possible.
It definitely didn't make him feel anxious or unneeded. Not at all.
Briar had tried broaching the topic of his midlife crisis at least three times, but Yassen had stonewalled every attempt. There was a decent chance Smithers would conceive of a way to overhear the conversation. His frustrations with Alex were one thing. All directly associated exhaustion, anger, and panic were fair game for her to dissect and advise. Talking about just himself in general felt oddly uncomfortable.
Alex dropped Purdy on the couch, forehead knit. "I want extra percocet," he said without preamble. "I have a wicked headache."
"You've already had your afternoon dose."
"I want more."
Yassen considered him. Independance meant not having to ask for permission to make bad choices. When he'd agreed to first hold the pills for Alex, it had been mostly to ensure the little idiot didn't overdose on unknown substances because he couldn't form memories. Alex had been content to switch to cannabis for getting high so long as the opiates continued flowing at a steady, predictable rate that kept his withdrawal at bay. The gummies had run out, however, though Alex's need for escapism had yet to abate.
Alex already spent plenty of time away from him. Yassen would assume there wasn't much of a drug trade in such a small resort town, but he'd been surprised before. The last thing he wanted was to drive the brat to experimenting with heroin again.
God knew he let Alex have his way ninety percent of the time anyway.
"Fine," he said, careful to keep his voice even. He had the narcan. At worst, Alex was annoying and touchy when he was high. He fished out two small pills and offered them to Alex. "Let me know if you think you're overdosing."
Alex swallowed them and settled at the breakfast counter a few feet away, glaring at the tile.
"Are you having a panic attack?" Yassen asked him at length.
A shrug. "Maybe. What do you care?"
Yassen eyed him askance. "Why wouldn't I?"
Alex shrugged again, muttering under his breath, "Because it's not on your computer screen."
Alright. Standing, Yassen shoved the desk chair aside and gestured Alex towards him. "If you have the energy to sulk, you have the energy to learn something useful. You've got at least a half hour before you're too high to learn. Show me what you remember about breaking holds."
Instead of whining about his headache or being forced to work out as Yassen expected, Alex blinked before he brightened ever so slightly. "Okay." He stood, carefully dislodging the annoying little fleabag from her perch before helping Yassen shove the couch against the wall, clearing a space in the middle of the room. "I thought you were looking for new identities."
"I found a broker," Yassen told him, nodding to Alex as he grabbed the opposite end of the coffee table and walked it over to the kitchen. "In Seattle. We're sorting out the details now, but I imagine it'll be another few days before we leave."
Alex snorted, coming to stand in the center of the room. Tugging the elastic Briar had given him off his wrist, he looped it around his hair in a sloppy partial ponytail to keep it out of his eyes. "Don't tell me you're a completionist at heart. We should have started collecting those quarters with the states on them. We'll probably visit all fifty by the time we're done."
"I assure you, I'm as thrilled as you are at how long this has taken," Yassen said. He twirled his finger until Alex obligingly spun around to face away from him. Giving Alex a second to doubt his speed and timing, he quickly pulled the boy into an arm-bar strangle. "I'd forgotten what a nightmare it is to work with independent contractors."
Alex dropped his chin down sharply, shoved the strangling elbow into his face, and pivoted to open the hold. "Why? Is this new guy a pain?"
Yassen pulled back, pleased with the state of the boy's muscle memory. "His repertoire is limited, but workable. He only does passports and proof of citizenship, and only from Uruguay. There'll be a lot more work for me, but it can be done." He gestured the boy to turn around again.
Alex obliged. "So I'm going to have to figure out that dialect?"
"There are worse things," Yassen reminded him, pulling him sharply into a sleeper hold without warning. Brain damage was always possible, but so were the odds of Alex being attacked by someone who didn't share Yassen's concern. Karate hadn't prepared him for assailants larger and more skilled than himself, aiming to kidnap rather than kill him. Alex had always been forced to improvise, based on what Yassen gleaned from his recountings. Six seconds of interrupted breathing should provide minimal risk.
Alex repeated his previous move, though his pivot wasn't nearly as wide as Yassen would have liked. He released the boy's neck anyway. It would be too easy for someone with decent training and a hundred pounds on him to recapture him.
"Wider stance. Use your hips," he told him, tugging Alex towards him to walk him through it again. "If you have to, throw all of your weight into their elbow. You can't afford to pass out."
Making a face, Alex repeated the process with him again, stance acceptably wide this time. "What do you mean more work?"
"Ferri was going to provide us with everything. School records. Medical records. Traffic tickets. The sort of bureaucratic litter that makes it difficult to question an identity." Yassen gave him a minute to collect himself. He'd rather go slow than risk needlessly agitating his health. "I'll have to figure those out as I go, but our first priority will be to legally immigrate to anywhere but Uruguay."
"Why?" Alex asked, rubbing his neck.
"Because there's no reason we shouldn't have those records if we are supposedly citizens. Emigrating will give us something to blame for the lack, at least long enough to get you started in school and into treatment."
Alex hummed, obviously chewing the thought over. "So what country will we live in?"
"Haven't decided yet," Yassen told him, satisfied that Alex could break this particular hold with enough proficiency to escape. Now they could focus on fighting back. "Let's move on to striking as soon as you've opened their stance. How familiar are you with shoulder locks and kidney strikes?"
O
Alex watched Yassen pace along the length of the wood patio through the wide windows of the living room later that night. It wasn't as though the man was doing anything particularly interesting, other than smoking and occasionally saying something into his phone. According to him, their new identity broker might not have decades of experience but he was cautious enough to make up for it. Plenty of safety measures and precautions needed to be sorted before he'd agree to meet.
Clicking the play button on the screen, Alex watched the rest of the video unfold, snorting quietly to himself. He couldn't imagine sticking with a job he hated so much that he'd have to quit via emergency plane chute, not like this flight attendant who'd made it to Youtube stardom. Actually, now that he thought about it, he'd quit MI6 in an equally dramatic fashion, if not as cheerful.
Well, perhaps it was more accurate to say they'd quit him.
He buried his face in his hands. God, his mood had been so morose lately. Even the remaining euphoria from the percocet couldn't quite keep it all at bay. It was hard to say exactly why. His health was better than it had been in weeks, he had plenty of video games to play, and they weren't trapped in a stupid fucking car all day. By all rights, he should be over the moon with how things were going. He even had Purdy to keep him company from time to time, which had been an unexpected lifesaver, considering that it had seemed like Yassen was losing interest in him.
Alex squirmed in his seat, another anxious wave washing over him and pulling him out to sea.
Yassen had suddenly removed himself from their daily rituals, unexpectedly and hard. Yassen had stopped nagging him. Yassen had stopped working out with him in the mornings. Yassen had begun to spend most of the day ignoring him in favor of staring at the computer screen all day. If it weren't for the need to eat and collect his pills, they'd have scarcely spoken to each other.
It had been so sudden a change, Alex hadn't known how to react. Had Yassen finally grown tired of what a chronic disappointment Alex was? Realized that it would be far more trouble than he was worth just to keep alive? Maxxed out the amount of concern anyone deserved in a lifetime? Bitter and anxious was a terrible way to feel all the time yet here he was again. He couldn't help it. If Yassen was preparing to take off, maybe without even realizing it himself, then Alex couldn't bear to be unprepared.
Besides, it wasn't like he cared. If Yassen wanted to pull away, two could play that game. Alex didn't need him to make him feel safe or cared for. Percocet and a little patience would soothe the fear, even if he had to lie about having a headache to avoid questions.
Then Yassen had insisted on reviewing self-defense this afternoon.
Alex allowed himself a surge of hope that he'd misread the signals the man was putting out. That was hardly a sign of utter disinterest; it was time consuming, especially as soon as the percocet had hit. Yassen had even amusedly tolerated Alex's rapidly devolving ability to focus in the face of his sudden determination to find out if the Russian had any ticklish spots.
(He hadn't found any, of course, but the back of his knees seemed promising. Yassen had quickly judo-thrown him when he'd tried, which others might have taken as confirmation, but Alex wasn't convinced. Misdirection was one of Yassen's favorite tactics.)
It hadn't taken long for a new fear to take root in him as Yassen decided to halt the lesson and turn on a film for Alex to watch until his high wound down. Maybe the man was consciously planning on leaving him and just wanted to know he'd be alright on his own. Almost like a goodbye present.
He scowled and went back to clicking aimlessly through related videos. He'd started this little exploration tour when Yassen had suggested he watch some combat tutorials. Those had been interesting for awhile, but as soon as Yassen had disappeared outside, Alex had quickly found himself sidetracked by cat videos and prank wars. To be fair, Yassen might have predicted he'd go down this rabbit hole, since he'd ducked out with a quick warning not to login to any accounts or look his friends up on any social media sites. Hardly necessary if he thought Alex was going to stay on task.
Alex sighed, half considering disobeying even though he knew Yassen's reasoning was sound. It had been ages since he'd last seen Tom. Feeling like he was going a little mad, Alex swallowed the urge to just take one quick little peek at his best mate's Facebook page. Just a quick one. He wasn't stupid enough to message him or log in to his own account, of course, but he was dying to make sure he was doing alright. James hadn't suffered a broken arm because of him, but Alex still wanted to know his other best mate was doing well too.
Well, ex-best-mates, really.
He closed the window with a groan. It was too much temptation. As trite as it sounded, he was feeling lonely. If Yassen was possibly-preparing-to-bolt on him, what else could he do? Seeing Tom's photos with his new friends and his silly quiz results wouldn't fix that. James' either. Sabina had stopped responding to him while he'd been at Rosethorne, so he doubted that would be worth the risk.
More than anyone, Alex missed Jack. The tightening in his chest warned him that he was about to slink down the path of a panic attack or a mood swing. Too late. Alex found himself awash in the sheer sensation of sheer missing; that combination of denial and wishfulness and pain and how much he just wanted to hear her call him in for a ten-minute dinner from the other room. He'd trusted her more than anyone. Loved her, probably. Maybe he'd never been able to tell her about all of his problems and maybe she'd made things hard on him in some ways, but she had cared and offered comfort without question.
Gone forever. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.
Actually… maybe he could.
Nibbling a hangnail, Alex reopened the browser window and considered the search bar. They were going to Seattle for their identities already. Jack's parents lived in Washington. He'd never spoken to them directly, but Mrs. Jones had informed him that they'd held a service and buried her recovered ashes with her grandparents. It was probably nearby. Alex might finally get to say goodbye. It wouldn't make him happy, per se, but he'd never gotten closure. If the ache in him couldn't be soothed, maybe it could be resolved instead.
He typed in locate grave washington. Now, if only he knew what 'Jack' had been short for.
By the time Yassen wrapped up his hour long phone call, Alex had gone back to random video browsing out of anxiety and boredom. He walked past him, obviously headed to the kitchen when he paused and looked at the screen over Alex's shoulder, squinting. "What on earth are you watching?"
"It's called Nyan cat."
Yassen said nothing for a few seconds, watching the screen. "And that's all it does?"
"I guess." Alex consulted the progress bar. "I'll let you know. I've only got nine and three quarter hours to go."
Muttering something in Russian, Yassen walked to the fridge and pulled it open to consider it's contents. Alex was thoroughly unsurprised to hear it shut a second later. They'd never stayed in one place long enough to consider groceries and it was far too much trouble this far out. At best, he might be able to find some of the junk food Alex had stocked up on. "Put on your shoes. We're going out."
Alex obligingly paused his video and began hunting around for them. Spotting one behind the couch, he tugged it on and did up the laces. "So are we leaving for Seattle?"
"No. Fernandez wants two weeks to start the order but because he only does passports and citizenship, when we arrive he can get it to us the same day." Yassen watched as Alex began turning over couch cushions in his quest for his missing trainer. "We'll leave the day after tomorrow at the earliest."
Alex hummed, spotting his prize beneath the lounge chair opposite the decorative gas fireplace. He yanked it on, doing the laces with care, mostly for an excuse not to look up. "Yassen?"
"Hm?"
"Do you mind if we stop in Tacoma on the way? I don't think it's that far from Seattle."
Yassen considered him. "Why?"
"Jack's buried there," Alex told him shortly, grabbing his coat from where he'd draped it on the couch. "I never got to see her grave. I might never."
Yassen was quiet long enough for Alex to sneak a furtive glance in his direction. Face blank, the man seemed… reluctant. Maybe even uneasy around the eyes. At any rate, he was actively trying to conceal that from Alex. That was odd. He rarely bothered anymore.
Another spike of anxiety bloomed in his stomach. Had Yassen been planning on leaving him sooner than that?
"Maybe," he said. Seeing Alex's look, he amended, "Most likely. The odds that the CIA have the place staked out are low, but not insignificant. It's far more likely to be some kind of passive surveillance. I'll want to take a look around first, but, unless I see anything of concern, we can stop there for a quick visit."
Alex nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
