Alex was woken the next morning by a shrill, tinny ringing. He looked around groggily, searching for his alarm clock. The bell stopped abruptly and Alex sat up, confused. And then it all came flooding back. The mission. Groaning, he flopped backward onto the plush bed and covered his face with a pillow. From outside he could hear the sound of pupils heading down the wooden staircase. There was a knock at the door.

"New kid," said a voice from the other side; it was a young boys. "Get up, breakfast in 10."

Alex heard footsteps move away from his door. He pulled the covers off himself and moved so his legs were dangling over the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes; he'd slept unusually well that night. Stumbling over to the ensuite, he stripped off his shirt and turned the tap on at the sink. He splashed cold water over his face and wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

He glanced into the mirror. He looked tired, but not overwhelmingly so, his hair was rumpled and untidy and he tried to flatten it down with water. It didn't have much effect. He examined the scar over his heart. The wound was slowly whitening which the doctor said it meant it was healing nicely. Sighing, Alex walked back into the bedroom and pulled on the new shirt and trousers he'd been supplied with. They were made of high quality material and fit Alex perfectly. The shirt was crisp and white, the trousers a pale grey. The blazer jacket laid out on the bed was black with the schools logo emblazoned on the pocket.

Alex Friend had a reputation for being a disruptive presence and therefore Alex had to act like it. And personality started with appearance. He rolled the sleeves of the shirt up to his elbows and undid the first two buttons, untucking it from his trousers. He looked at the neatly folded blazer and shrugged it on as well, it was November after all. He pushed the sleeves of that up too, folding the ends of his shirt over the ends of the jacket. The burgundy tie was the only item left. He looked at the clock. He didn't have time to do it properly. He draped the tie around his neck leaving it undone.

He glanced in the mirror; he looked good. The only shoes he had were the ones from Lincoln High and he put them on. He guessed that he probably didn't need his bag for breakfast and retrieved the bottle of pills and iPhone from it, slipping them into his pocket. He ruffled his hair as he walked past the mirror and turned the collar of his blazer up for good measure. He turned his stride into a swagger and pushed open the door.

Ghost sat in the back of the afternoon's tactical skills seminar, brooding. The Lieutenant had been replaced by a strict Canadian man named Captain Sunday. He was insufferable, he had them running drills and attending seminars all day every day, he obviously wanted them to out-perfrom the British troops.

"As you can see, the use of grenades in this situation was warranted," droned the professor dully, "we can, however, observe that this method of aggression would not have been appropriate-"

"So," whispered Ghost to his squadron, who all looked as bored as he felt, "what do you think Stanley was going to tell me?"

"No idea," replied Charge in the same hushed tones, "I reckon it was about the kid though. What did you say he said? Disturbing, illegal and morally barbaric?"

"Yeah," agreed Apache who had, so far being doing the best out of all of them to listen to the seminar but had eventually given up, "he was looking at him at the helipad, he said that it wasn't right."

Gun voiced what they were all thinking. "So who is the kid?"

"He said his father was Sir David Friend." pointed out Charge and they made noises of agreement.

"I'm not sure that he is," said Apache, " he looked scared to go with them, why would he be scared on his own father?"

Ghost shrugged, "Even rich people have their problems. Besides, why would he lie?"

"I agree," said Rex, "It explains everything if you know he's a son of a wealthy family."

They looked at him inquiringly.

"It makes sense," he continued, "the way he knew something was off about the situation, how calm he was. I bet he'd been kidnapped before, that's why-"

"That's why he knew it wasn't Scorpia," interrupted Ghost, nodding "I bet they'd already kidnapped him; why would they kidnap him twice?"

"He doesn't act like he's rich," said Charge thoughtfully, "all the posh-o's I've met talk like they're better than you. The boy seemed...nice - at ease with all of us."

There was silence as they considered this.

"Maybe…" said Gun slowly, "maybe he's been around a lot of military personnel, if he has protection - or a bodyguard, he'll know what we're like, he'll know what we've seen, what we've been through."

"That makes sense" nodded Apache.

"But that doesn't explain," said Ghost, bringing the conversation back to its starting point, "what the Lieutenant found so morally corrupt. What is special ops doing to the boy and why is Sir Friend letting it happen to his son? And why-"

"Are you talking through my seminar?" interrupted a voice from the front of the room. They turned round. The lecturer was glaring at them; evidently he had noticed that no one was paying him any attention.

"Sorry," said Charge quickly, "we were just discussing the use of the grenades in Serbia." He patted Apache on the shoulder, "Apache here doesn't think that the situation justified such heavy use of artillery."

"No?" said the man, raising his eyebrows at him, "What does Apache think warrants the use of grenades if not three dozen heavily armoured tanks, a hundred armed to the teeth foot soldiers and a royal hostage?"

Apache gulped and looked around for help. When no assistance came he said feebly, "two royal hostages?"

Alex, after some searching, had managed to find the door to the dining hall. All the corridors looked the same, and after awhile he'd given up hope on following the sound of voices; they echoed everywhere. He'd finally found the door labelled breakfast hall and stood outside it, steeling the courage to open it. He was spared this action as the door swung open and a motherly looking woman walked through it. She didn't spare a second glance for Alex and his untidy appearance, but shouted back down the corridor at him,

"Get in there; the sausages are getting cold!"

Alex squared his shoulders and swaggered into the room. There were three tables full of boys his and older. There were around 30 in all, most of the students didn't board there. A lot of the boys looked asian and european and all were dressed tidily. There was a small table full of what looked like the teachers at the front of the room and one of them stood as Alex approached.

The man was balding, about fifty and was wearing what looked like a dressing gown over his suit. Alex guessed it was probably his robes.

"You must be Alexander Friend," said the man kindly, offering his hand. Alex shook it.

"That's me." Alex said curtly.

"I'm Professor Lauton. You're only here for one morning, aren't you?" He asked, though Alex suspected he wasn't really supposed to answer, "most irregular," he continued, "but if you must try out a dozen different schools before settling down then I hope you can convince you to stay at this one."

"I don't think that'll happen." said Alex, truthfully. The man looked a bit put out, but not angry. A second later, a hand came down hard on his shoulder and Alex flinched, he hadn't heard anyone else move.

"Show your elders some respect boy." came a loud voice from behind him. The owner of the hand on his shoulder spun Alex around to face him. He was much taller and much more mean looking than Professor Lauton.

"We do not tolerate tardiness or untidiness in this school." said the man, he roughly tugged the edges of Alex's collar down. "I suggest you invest in a watch."

"And I suggest you" said Alex smartly, cringing away from the man, "invest in some mouthwash."

There was a smattering of laughter from the table of boy's nearest them but one look from the man in front of him and they quietened immediately.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" he asked menacingly

Alex was going to point out that how could he possibly know who the man was - he'd only arrived last night after all, until he saw the badge on the man's robes. It read HEADMASTER.

"Why?" asked Alex innocently, "Have you forgotten?"

The man looked ready to strike him but Mr Lauton but a hand on his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look.

"Well, Alexander," began Mr Lauton but Alex interrupted.

"Alex"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I prefer to be called Alex,"

"You'll prefer whatever he calls you Alexander," said the Headmaster "and you won't complain."

"I can and I will."

"You're a troublemaker aren't you?" asked the Headmaster, narrowing his eyes at Alex, "I can tell, you're one of those. The ones who have a rich daddy so you can think you do what you want? Well, you can't. I've got my eye on you Alexander, I'm not an idiot."

"You said that with such conviction I almost believed you."

"Why-"

"Headmaster," said Professor Lauton calmly, "why don't you go and sit down, and I'll have a chat with Alex."

Surprisingly, the headmaster did just that. He gave Alex a final glare and moved off to sit back down at the teacher's table.

"Alex, I've seen boys like you before and I know there is always something going on underneath that bad boy charade. If you ever need to talk, my door is always open."

Alex decided he liked Mr Lauton, but he had to keep up appearances, the boys at the next table were still listening.

"Well, feel free to shut it." Alex said patronisingly and walked over to the table of boys, sitting down heavily. He tugged the collar of his blazer back up. The boys all grinned at him.

The bell rang a second later and Alex looked sadly down at the toast on the table. He grabbed a couple of slices and rose with the other boys. He grinned at them.

"Hi," he said "I'm Alex." he took a bite of his toast.

"I'm Timothy but everyone calls me Tim" said the boy on his right, "I can't believe you stood up to old Smythe,"

They headed out into the corridor and up to the first floor landing.

"Nor can I" chimed in the boy on Alex's left, he had a definite european accent. "He shouted at me to get a haircut once and I got it all shaved off so it wouldn't happen again." He rubbed the short hair on his scalp. "I'm Georges."

"French?" Alex asked interested.

"Belgian."

"Where are you from?" Asked another boy.

"You can't tell?" asked Alex smiling,

"London." said Georges, grinning.

"Hey, new kid!" Alex turned. One of the boys from another table had wandered across to where they stood.

"What?" retorted Alex annoyed, he could tell that there was going to be trouble.

The boy's hair was dyed black and cut short into a buzz cut. Alex would have bet that before coming here, the boy had been at a military school. He had thick, heavy eyebrows which gave away his original hair colour; ginger. He had freckles that covered his face but what really stood out was the skeleton eagle tattoo on his neck; obviously he was the resident psycho. "Aw shucks," said Tim, "you should probably run."

"I'm the funny guy around here," Tattoo said, menacingly, "I'm the one who chat's back to that dick Smythe. I don't want you to get the wrong end of the stick and come in here like you think you're all that."

Alex rolled his eyes, "I have no stick by any end."

"You think you can cheek me?" Said Tattoo, "You want to go? You want a fight?"

"What?" asked Alex baffled, "I'm not trying to start anything, I just-" the older boy pushed him backward, and Alex, unprepared, fell over.

Tattoo and a few other students laughed and Alex got angrily to his feet. "What was that for?" asked Alex, annoyed. He'd dropped his toast.

"I told you, this school ain't big enough for both of us." He went to push him again but this time, Alex was prepared. He took hold of Tatoo's wrists and used the energy he had created to force the other boy past Alex, into the wall. There was a thud and Tattoo turned, looking angry. He struck out at Alex, who dodged the punch and moved in with a palm strike to Tattoo's jaw, using his right foot to sweep the other's legs out from underneath him, sending the boy to the floor.

Alex saw a tall woman heading toward the commotion and recognised her as the woman from earlier he kicked Tattoo in the dick for good measure and the boy howled in pain, rolling around. Alex didn't have time to move before he had tipped over the edge of the stairway. As if in slow motion he tumbled down the steps and Alex stood, watching him fall.

"MR FRIEND!" shouted the woman, hurrying down the steps. "MY OFFICE NOW!"

She turned Tattoo over from where he had collapsed at the bottom of the stairs and checked him hurriedly. Alex didn't move. He didn't know where the woman's office was. He didn't even know who she was come to think of it. She helped Tattoo up and glared at Alex. Mr Lauton came jogging along the corridor and put his arm round Tattoo's shoulders. He exchanged a few short words with the woman and he escorted Tattoo away from the scene.

"Mr Friend," said the woman, heading back up the stairs to where Alex was standing, "my office, lets go."

Alex adopted the same swagger as before and followed the woman down the landing to her office. The sign outside read, Ms Dane - DEPUTY HEAD

She held the door open for him and he ducked inside. She sat down behind her desk and Alex slid into the chair opposite.

"So," she said angrily, "why did you attack Mr Howard?"

"I didn't" Alex said hotly, "He came at me, I defended myself. It's not my fault he rolled around so much and fell-"

"Mr Friend, I clearly saw you kick Mr Howard whilst he was on the floor."

"He deserved it." said Alex plainly.

"Mr Howard does have a certain reputation for violence at this school, however what I saw was definitely not one-sided. Do you have anything to say about your behaviour?"

"Only that I didn't push him down the stairs, he merely decided to put Newton's law of universal gravitation to the test"

She raised a thin eyebrow at him but Alex could tell that she was trying to suppress a smile. "I know you're only here for," she checked her watch "four more hours, but I hope you can contain your temper until you leave."

Alex nodded. "I'll try."

"Good, now, I would like you to visit Mr Howard with me."

They arrived at the infirmary ten minutes later to find Tattoo being covered in plasters and ointment by a fussing nurse. He scowled when Alex walked in.

"Alexander," said Ms Dane, "what do you say?"

"Sorry" he spat.

"And Matthew?"

"I will not apologise to him!" the other boy all but shouted, "I was raised fight like a gentleman, I-"

"Was raised to die young too?" asked Alex smugly.

Matt growled and tried to raise himself out of bed but the nurse pushed him back. "My father has been knighted!"

"So has mine" retorted Alex, shrugging

"That'll do I think." interrupted Ms Dane " Come along Mr Friend."

Alex followed Ms Dane out of the infirmary and they walked in silence.

"I thought I'd tell you that I know why you're really here" she said kindly, "I'm the one your bosses contacted to let the school know of your arrival."

Alex blinked, surprised by this information, "Oh."

"I'm sorry that you've been thrust into this so young,"

"Me too," said Alex glumly.

"I've got to say though," she said, pausing in her stride, "you're rather good at this. I suppose the fight was to keep up Alex Friend's rebel facade?"

He nodded dutifully.

"You play it rather too well." she said, giving him a small smile. She stopped outside a door and knocked.

"Enter."

She pushed open the door, a french class was clearly in progress. "Claude, this is Alex Friend, he's here for a trial day at the school." The teacher nodded and continued with the class, she turned to Alex, "Here you are, follow Georges around this morning, go to his lessons and see if you feel like you'll fit in at this school." she winked at him, patted his shoulder and he entered the classroom.

"Ah!" said the Professor excitedly, "Bonjour Alex! Je m'appelle Claude"

Alex gave a small wave. "Bonjour Claude."

"Assis toi à côté de Georges."

Alex moved to sit at the empty seat next to Georges.

"Saved you a seat," he said, smiling at Alex.

"Thanks."

Claude began the class again and Alex sat, relaxing. If he tried hard enough, he forgot why he was here. His stomach gave a rumble and he forgot he hadn't eaten breakfast. He cursed mentally. It also meant that he hadn't taken the pills. He pulled them out his pocket and tried to make as little noise as possible. Evidently, he wasn't quiet enough as Georges looked round.

"What are they?" he mouthed.

"Anxiety" Alex mouthed back, shrugging.

Georges looked surprised but didn't say anything more. He pulled out a water bottle and slid it over to Alex.

"Thank you."

He tossed the pills and water into his mouth and swallowed. He returned the rest of the pills to his pocket and sat back, letting the Professor's words flow over him.

Alex found the french class pleasingly easy. He already spoke the language and had the excuse of his time at Point Blanc to explain his proficiency. Alex didn't have any of his textbooks or pens so Georges shared his.

He followed the boy to history and was surprised how much Georges reminded him of Tom. They would have got on well, Alex thought. Both were small with eclectic personalities. Georges was however, a little shy and unsure of himself at times. Whenever he was asked to answer a question in front of the class he froze and whispered his answer.

The school had amazing facilities; the history classroom was full of old revolutionary war memorabilia, which was also the topic Alex's class were learning about. There had been several jokes made by the Professor about Alex and the British, all of which he had responded hotly to.

"So," said Professor Yardly "last pop question of the hour. Who followed George Washington as president?"

Several hands flew into the air. Yardly looked round the room, evidently searching for someone without their hand raised.

"Georges?"

Next to him, the boy stiffened. There was silence in the room as they all looked at Georges. The bell rang, strengthening rather than breaking the tension.

"Come on, Harrison" said one of the other boys that Alex thought was named Julian,"I've got to get to gym."

"I-"

"Did you know that George Washington was actually British?" asked Alex loudly.

"What's that got to do with anything?" asked Julian

"Only that the British weren't technically defeated by an American. George Washington, a brit was the only one who could defeat the British. Meaning America didn't really win. And one of the major turning points at Yorktown depended on a Frenchman, the Marquis de Laffayette." he nudged Georges who gave him a small smile. "The American's were mainly used as cannon fodder."

"And John Adams," he continued deliberately, "who succeeded Washington also had a British father."

The Professor gave him an impressed, approving smile. "Well well Alex, you've surprised me. I hope you decided to stay here, you'd do well. Class dismissed!"

As they packed up and filed out of the room Georges gave Alex a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." he said kindly, "why'd you freeze up like that?"

"Anxiety."

Shit.

"Really?"

"Yeah," said Georges ruefully, "Which is why," he said, his eyebrows raising, "when you want to tell me what those pills are actually for, I'm all ears."

Damn MI6, why couldn't they just make the stupid pills in the same shape?

Alex bit his lip. "Thanks."

"Come on," said Georges cheerfully, "We need to get to biology, we're doing CAT scans."

Okay, so its pretty obvious I love Hamilton. But its a school topic I know a lot about so...

Reviews are life and motivation and honestly, they make me so happy.

I do a little punch of joy when I read them in the morning.

Anyway, hope y'all like.