A/N: A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! As always, I love your comments, curse my own poor reply time, and hope that everyone is staying healthy and hydrated! (And thanks for the comment reminder! I swear this would have been posted ten hours later if it hadn't been for you, Titan.)
Alex shut his notebook and nodded to his lab partner, Misha. "Okay. Done."
"Good." Snapping the case shut, the other boy stood to return their lab supplies to their physics instructor. Mr. Wendell was a tanned Australian who looked like he'd be more at ease demonstrating physics through extreme sports rather than through the series of weights and pendulums he'd distributed earlier. The man set their equipment aside and crossed them off his list, in between fielding the returns of the other groups of students converging on his desk.
A digital chime rang across the speakers.
"You're dismissed. Go on. Don't forget to read chapter eight tonight," he called over it. A flurry of shuffling and footsteps greeted him back. "Practice questions are listed on the syllabus. I won't check them, but I recommend you do them anyway if you're struggling."
Alex shoved his things into his backpack, eager to get to lunch. The first half of his day would be spent on one hour core subject lessons (Math, Science, English, and Reading) before he got his lunch period. Following that, he'd have a small study hour (in lieu of a physical fitness class) followed by his remaining three elective courses: French (a guaranteed good score to keep Yassen happy), Watercolors, and the completely mandatory Russian Immersion. His first four classes had all gone well; apart from having to stand and introduce himself by his Russian stripper name without flinching, he'd settled in without too much trouble or fanfare. Plenty of the information looked vaguely familiar, for the most part. Each class had fifteen students or less so he was hardly left wanting for individual attention.
It reminded him greatly of Cairo College still, in that the instructors were obviously used to getting students caught up quickly and seamlessly, though their attitude was a bit more formal than it had been in Egypt. Teachers were always 'sir' or 'miss' and forgetting to raise your hand would generally get you scolded if not outright ignored. Still, Alex supposed it could be worse.
Misha tapped his arm as Alex streamed out into the hallway behind the rest of the students. He pulled him aside by the door. "I saw you sitting with Timofey Nikulov yesterday. You know him how exactly?"
Alex blinked. There hadn't been anything outright hostile in his tone, it had just been more direct than he'd expected. "Our parents work together. Why?"
"I see." Misha nodded, about to say something else, before seeming to think better of it.
Well, that had probably just branded him a junior criminal. Alex spared a moment to wonder how many children were aware of what their parents did, or what the relationships between the different mafias meant. Most probably had some idea. Another thought occurred to him: if his real name ever became public at school, he might have to figure out who Drevin's associates had been. Yassen said it likely wouldn't come up, but now Alex was a touch paranoid. He'd have to be careful.
Alex sighed. "Why do you ask?"
"His group… they have a reputation for being… strange." Misha paused after that, eyes flicking to Alex's long hair, brushed back into a half up tie. "I do not know the proper word. Strange in... ways."
Oh. Right.
Lada had implied that her dual identity was somewhat of a known secret. The twins had suggested as much with their complaints. Alex realized he might have to do some more digging to find out what was okay to discuss on a practical level. Dima obviously wanted strict silence outside of the home, but that didn't mean other teenagers wouldn't talk. Alex would make himself look untrustworthy by not acknowledging common knowledge. He'd have to mind that, though it only occurred to him now that his long hair might build more even more "strange" associations he didn't plan on.
Not that he particularly cared. His reputation wasn't something he had the luxury of getting attached to since MI6 started dragging him out of school. Even so, this hair thing was obviously a bigger deal than he'd assumed. A handful of boys at Brookland wore theirs long, to the ire of the administration and absolutely no one else, though they all seemed to be into heavy metal or something similar. Here, he hadn't missed the way everyone's eyes seemed transfixed on it with varying grades of disapproval or dismay. Well, except for the international students; they hardly seemed to notice at all. Maybe it was just a Russian thing.
If only Alex knew why he still couldn't bear the thought of getting it clipped.
"I'm not sure what you mean. Everyone is strange," Alex said shrugging, "at least in some way or another. Timofey's friends all seem nice."
Misha seemed a bit dissatisfied by that answer but didn't get a chance to pry further.
"Sasha Lebedev to the main reception please," a pleasant female voice announced over the loudspeaker. "Sasha Lebedev to the main reception."
Alex gave Misha a quick goodbye before switching directions to respond to his summons, detouring only briefly to the toilets to take his oxycontin discreetly out of sight of the security cameras and fire off a quick text to Yassen about the dosage. Mrs. Zhuk, the head secretary, greeted him when he stepped up to the counter alongside a giggling trio of girls accepting a stack of bulletins to distribute.
"There you are, I'm glad you heard our message. I was about to send someone." She handed him a small slip of paper as the other girls filed out, leaving the small student affairs section of the office empty. "We just got a last minute reservation at the study lab. It looks like one of the instructors is going to hold an activity there for the rest of the week, so independent study is moving to the library until further notice. Don't forget to check in with Mr. Avilov, the librarian, when you arrive or you will be marked truant."
"Yes, ma'am." Alex took the slip of paper and turned to go.
She glanced back down at her computer. "Oh, and Sasha: tell your father we confirmed there will be no openings in the Dedov Dormitories this semester. We tried to call him to follow up, but he did not answer."
"I'm sorry," Alex said, turning back to her. "No openings where?"
"In the Dedov Dormitories," she repeated. Seeing his blank expression, she gestured to one of the posters tacked to the bulletin board behind him and went back to her computer screen. Local Student Accomodations was printed along the top. The featured images were of a posh, modern looking building and smiling twenty-something models clutching unlabeled books and pretending to be teenagers. "It's a few miles away. Not owned by the school; we just have an agreement with them for secure transport to and from campus. It's quite small, only sixteen residents, but very nice. We only just heard back from their housing specialist and there are no scheduled openings for at least another six months, not at the security level your father requested."
Alex felt his stomach drop into a vast void of nothingness. "When did he inquire?"
"Hm?" She squinted at him. "When he enrolled you, of course."
"Right. Of course." Alex swallowed and turned to go. "I'll pass it along."
The rest of the day passed in a haze, though Alex made a concerted effort to focus on his instructors at least long enough to be left to his own devices in class. A few drops of his tincture hadn't done anything to quell his growing sea of thoughts, writhing and coiling like eels in the pit of his stomach.
He'd been right. Yassen wanted to leave him.
Alex had been so stupid to think there was anything he could do about it. To think there was any way he could stall or delay the inevitable.
Yassen was sick of dealing with him, or maybe his own problems had caught up to him and he just didn't have the monumental amount of time and effort free anymore. It would have been nice had Yassen just told him directly, but he probably just didn't want Alex to freak out and cry again. Maybe that's why he'd been so resistant to the idea of Alex cleaning, why he hadn't bothered arranging for it to begin with: if his plan had gone his way, Alex would have been stashed in the high-security equivalent of a boarding school while Yassen was free to be on his own.
He couldn't summon any significant anger at the man; that he reserved strictly for himself. How could he be such an idiot? The writing was on the wall the whole time, yet Alex had foolishly tried to to help out. Like puttering around their flat with window cleaner would do a damn thing about their problems or make Yassen's life any easier.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He should have never allowed himself to relax. Yassen didn't really want to take care of him, he just liked Alex fine and needed a distraction. Even without all these agencies hovering over their shoulders because he'd gotten shot, it was utterly dim-witted of Alex to think that his stupid, mundane problems would be of any interest to the man for more than a few months. Yassen was used to traveling the world, negotiating for millions of dollars, and earning his reputation as one of the most wanted contract killers on the planet. As if school work and Alex's diet and panic attacks could hold his attention literally anywhere outside of prison. Even Ian, who was probably only in the field a few times a year and not nearly as notorious, had gotten sick of how boring Alex's day to day was and foisted his upkeep on Jack as soon as he possibly could. Hell, if Yassen thought he could hire someone who was good at both house care and judo to mind him, he probably would choose to pay rather than waste his own time. With Alex's hallucinations on the downward trend, that's essentially what the student accomodations were all about anyway.
A new thought crept in. What if Yassen was just… disappointed in him?
He'd said that he wouldn't be frustrated with Alex if he didn't get any better, but that had been ages ago. At least a month. Alex had entire missions happen in less time than that! Besides, his problems had been more interesting then. It had been so unlike Yassen to just leave those pill bottles out on the counter and when he'd gotten home, he'd clearly not been happy to see that he'd gotten high, even if it wasn't as bad as it could have been. That had been around the time Yassen had enrolled him in Goldstone so what if that had been a test to see if Alex could be trusted on his own?
Tears gathered in his eyes, but he blinked them away with everything that he had. Luckily, he was in watercolors and if he had to he could mix them in with his palette and play dumb, but it didn't turn out to be necessary.
He took slow, deep breaths to the count of four.
That's why Yassen hadn't taken the school's call. It didn't matter that there was no room for him in the dorms, because Alex had failed his test. He couldn't be trusted to live on his own. Yassen was staying unwillingly, probably searching for an alternative while he waited for Alex to get his shit together.
At the final bell, Alex plodded towards the gate behind the milling throng of students eager to get home after a long Friday. Most pushed ahead of him, and he couldn't really muster the energy to fight his way to the front of the line. His weed drops had done nothing for him all afternoon- they could really only relax him if he could muster the mental energy to embrace it. Alex just wanted to go home and check out. Yassen wouldn't give him more oxy for that and Alex really didn't want to ask him for it anyway.
If he wanted to escape, he'd have to figure it out on his own.
It took about ten minutes to shuffle to the gate, by which point he was one of the last few students. Most had already passed through to the curb outside, where a long line of luxury cars either waited or students began making their way to the closest metro station. Fiddling with his iPod, Alex killed the camera feeds around him as he stepped up to tap his card against the reader and was waved through. Outside the school gates, he slung his backpack towards his front as though checking for something and stepped onto the street. Then, to ensure his card wasn't strictly associated with the dead cameras, he let a few students trickle out before approaching the guard's booth. As expected, only one guard was on duty, his partner having been pulled aside by a student with a question, as he had been for the last few minutes.
"Excuse me," Alex asked, infusing just a mild amount of consternation into his voice. "Do you have a subway schedule? I've not taken it before."
The guard inside the booth nodded and gestured to the little counter, hesitating as he saw that it was empty. Of course it was. When Alex had shifted his backpack on his way through, it had been mostly to conceal the fact that he'd swiped the last six little pamphlets. "We run out," the guard said, a touch awkwardly. "Train each three minutes."
Alex bit his lip. "Is there a map of the routes? Of the station?"
The guard sighed, obviously not wanting to leave the warmth of the small and possibly-bulletproof enclosure. He waved to signal his coworker, but the man was still answering the student's question with vague gestures at the second gate on the other end of campus, obviously not seeing him. With a crackle, his radio sprang to life, which he answered with a quick mutter and glance at his computer screen. He tapped the spacebar a few times and sighed.
Alex bit his lip. That was probably the main security office noticing something wrong with the cameras and checking in. He'd have to hurry if this was to be worth it. What was he going to do if the guard asked someone to bring him a map from the other gate instead of fetching it himself?
With a grimace, he turned back to Alex. "One minute. Stay."
I took only a few seconds. As soon as the guard walked away, Alex ducked into the booth and snatched the three bottles he'd spotted on Friday afternoon. The pipe was gone, but there were now two bottles of confiscated liquor and a switchblade. Ignoring the extras, Alex shoved the pill bottles into his pockets and stepped out before anyone could notice him and waited patiently for the guard to return.
Julius laughed, just out of sight.
Alex's eyes fluttered shut while he took a slow deep breath.
The guard brought his coworker, obviously loath to leave the gate unattended for more than a few seconds. To be fair, less than twenty had elapsed since he'd stepped away and Alex did everything he could to give the appearance that things were fine and he restored the cameras with a quick swirl of the iPod's trackpad. Hopefully, it'd look more like a systems glitch or interference rather than an attack, especially if they noticed the pill bottles were gone.
The second guard nodded to Alex. "Sorry, we are out of maps. Let me direct you and we have more tomorrow. If you go this way down the block and turn right…"