Alex wandered into the dining room, the carpet was soft beneath his bare feet. The spare clothes in the satchel had been four pairs of baggy jeans and a dozen different coloured t-shirts. The jeans were all slightly too big for him and now, they hung low on his hips, the cuffs of the legs flapping around the heels of his feet. He'd lost weight at the Pleasure's house. The nightmares he'd been having had had a lasting effect on not just his mind but his body. Most nights he'd dreamed of Julius and the feeling of the gun as it recoiled in his hand. And if it wasn't Julius, it was Jack, or Yassen, Damian Cray or Alexei Sarov. Less frequently but perhaps worse, were the dreams where he was waterboarded over and over again. He'd wake up, covered in sweat, struggling to breathe. This had led to him heaving over the toilet bowl at three in the morning, throwing up the last night's dinner. MI6 evidently hadn't accounted for this whilst buying him clothes.

"Ah, Alexander." Anatolievich said, standing from the dining table where he had been sitting, he lifted the cloth napkin off his knee as he did so. He held his arm out, hand flat, gesturing to the seat beside him. A place was set for Alex there already. "Join us, please."

Alex looked up in surprise. Sat on Anatolievich's other side was a man Alex thought he might know. He was a tall, sturdy man with thick arms and a thick neck. He was bald, but it looked like it was out of choice rather than age as he looked around forty.

"I sense that you recognise our guest, Alexander?" asked Anatolievich, smiling at him with interest.

"I think so?" Alex said truthfully, making his way over to the table, sliding into the wooden chair. Only after Alex had sat down did Anatolievich sit too. "I've seen you on the news, something to do with Belgium?"

Anatolievich looked at Alex with an appraising eye. "You're quite right Alexander, This is Monte Lindsay, he's head of the Belgium Federal Police Force."

Something clicked in Alex's brain and before he could stop himself he blurted out- "You've been investigating the disappearance of that boy haven't you?" He'd watched the news report the night after he and the Pleasure's had gone abseiling. "His parents were murdered, he was taken and his siblings were left in the house." He looked up at the man, "what are you doing here?"

Suddenly, Alex wished he hadn't asked. Anatolievich and Lindsay shared a fleeting look and he pretended not to have noticed. Alex's heart was racing now. Had Anatolievich had something to do with the boys disappearance? He tried to force an interested look onto his face before Anatolievich noticed the panic.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that Alexander," Anatolievich said gently, patting Alex's hand where it was lying on the table. His touch lingered a little too long. "It's a diplomatic issue."

"Oh," Alex said simply, he felt his face growing hot and he looked down at his knees. "Of course, I'm sorry, I should have realised."

Lindsay was the one to speak this time. His voice was cold and nasally. "Yes, you should have. Anatolievich who is this boy?"

"Alexander is the son of Sir David Friend. You know, the multi-billionaire." The way Anatolievich emphasised 'multi-billionaire' was obviously to caution the other man on his treatment of Alex.

"Now," continued Anatolievich "I'm afraid we've started breakfast without you considering you took so long." His gaze settled on the water still dripping from Alex's hair. "What would you like Alexander? Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea," Alex said simply and Anatolievich shot him a look, "please." he added, grinning. Anatolievich smiled too and reached for the teapot.

"Now Alexander, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you to your own devices this morning," Anatolievich sounded regretful "Monte and I have things to discuss."

Alex nodded, pouring milk into his cup. "Of course."

"I'll see you after lunch and give you a proper tour of the house. If you're hungry later just pull any bell and Amalyia will come."

Alex nodded. He wasn't sure how Anatolievich's brutish assistant would react to being called like a servant by a boy of fifteen. "Thank you."

Anatolievich turned to Lindsay and engaged him in conversation. Alex pulled some toast towards him and buttered it with his knife as the two men talked. He listened in incase there was anything important said but the topic was tennis. He ate his toast hungrily and tried to ignore the way Anatolievich's gaze would keep flickering back to him.

"And of course, that trouble with the Triads last year." said Lindsay casually. Alex's ears pricked up.

"Yes, I quite forgot about that, that french player was drugged and made an absolute fool of himself on court" Anatolievich said. "They found one of the chinese gang members knocked out didn't they?"

Lindsay nodded. "I don't remember which gang it was though, Big ring or something?"

Absentmindedly Alex corrected him, "Big Circle."

The two men turned to look at him and Alex felt like someone had doused him with water. He shivered.

"How do you know that, Alexander?" asked Anatolievich. His tone was pleasant but there was an underlying accusatory note as he asked the question. "It wasn't in the news."

Desperately, Alex searched his mind for an acceptable answer. "My dad knows people in the government. I overheard."

Anatolievich didn't look convinced. Panicking, Alex's floundering brain settled on a half-baked plan. Would it work? Somehow he hoped it wouldn't. Trying not to let his hand tremble, reached up to mess up the back of his wet hair, trying to look casual and innocent. Simultaneously, he stretched back in the chair, pushing his legs further under the table. Both actions created the effect he wanted. The jeans were already too low on his hips. The t-shirt fit him well enough, even if it was a little baggy, but as he put his hand behind his head, the shirt rode up, revealing at least four inches of bare, slightly damp skin above his now exposed waistband.

He moved less than a second later, reaching forward to grab his cup, playing the previous action off as a casual move. Alex glanced up at Anatolievich as he did so and, as he expected, caught the man's eyes staring at the spot where the exposed skin had been just moments earlier. Anatolievich's eyes flicked up to meet Alex's. He tried to hold the man's gaze for as long as he could. It was difficult, the primal hunger behind the dark blue eyes frightened him. Alex looked away and, though the interaction had lasted less than two seconds, as he'd hoped Anatolievich seemed perturbed.

"My step-son is exactly the same," said Lindsay sharply, "he likes to listen in to conversations he's not supposed to as well. It's got him kicked out of several schools."

"Well nevermind that," said Anatolievich distractedly "I think I'm finished, Monte?"

Lindsay nodded and rose from the table. He hadn't missed the shared look between Alex and Anatolievich. Alex avoided eye contact with both of them, he felt uncomfortable. Anatolievich rose too, moving round the edge of the table, heading for the door. He looked a little flushed.

"I'll see you after lunch, Alexander."

Alex looked up, not meeting the man's eyes and nodded dutifully. The two men left the room and Alex was left sat by himself at the large table. He felt like he needed another shower. He placed the tea back on the table, he didn't much feel like breakfast anymore.


Rico Rohas looked around the room into which he had been thrown. It hadn't been what he'd expected. So far, he'd been kept in small, cell-like rooms with little distinguishing features, no windows and no heat. This room could not have been more opposite. Every inch of it was extravagant. It was as if a king from the Middle ages had just walked out of the room. It was large and spacious, but decorated liberally with pictures, wall hangings, sofas, small tables and mirrors. The floor was made up of deep mahogany boards but was covered in places with thick red shag pile rugs. The floor-length curtains were the same shade, as was the canopy of the four poster bed which stood in the centre of the room.

The light coming in through the bay windows was bright and golden which meant that it was late morning. Rico had been blindfolded for the journey here, wherever here was. He remembered the giant red-headed woman holding him tight to her chest, the tall dark-haired man caressing his cheek, his mother falling as if in slow-motion to the floor and him joining her several minutes later. He'd woken up in one of the small cell rooms and that was all he'd known until today where he'd been shoved in what he thought was a van, drugged then led up several flights of stairs and been chucked in this gaudy room.

He tried the door; locked. He strode over to the window, searching for a catch. Nothing there either. The view outside showed him that there wasn't another building for miles. All he could see was a flat expanse of land, green and plain it held little indication as to where he was. He sat on the bed gingerly examined the dresser next to him.. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors on the desk. He looked awful. Dark bags circled his eyes making him look ill, his skin was paler than usual, the tan that he'd had in America fading. The honey coloured hair he had inherited from his mother was matted and greasy after a week of being denied access to a shower. He still wore his pajamas and there was a faint red stain on the sleeve where his mother's blood had showered him. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he let them fall. There was no one to see him cry after all.

Rico had had trouble sleeping, nightmares plagued his dreams and most of his waking moments too, his mother falling, his father shouting, the feel of the dark-haired man's cold fingers against his cheek. Rico wondered what had happened to his siblings, Ellie and Tomas. He prayed that the man hadn't got them too. He sat there, staring into nothing for a while longer, he didn't want to sleep if someone was going to enter the room. Eventually, he felt his head dropping onto his shoulder. The bed was very comfy afterall, and the pillows were softer than clouds...he drifted off to sleep, not noticing the hidden camera in the corner of the room.

Anatolievich peered at the screen showing the young boy on the poster bed. He'd seen him before, but not for long enough to get a true assessment. The boy was laid sprawled out, asleep on top of the bed clothes, one arm tucked behind his head. He wore long pajama trousers and a plain top. Yellow coloured hair was splayed out over his face which was contorted into a troubled expression. Anatolievich nodded at the man next to him. He'd do, for now at least.


Brad lay awake in Sabina's house for hours that night. The bed was comfier than his own at home but he couldn't sleep. All he could think about was Alex, and not even in the way he liked to. Questions swirled around his brain, there were so many things he didn't understand. Sabina had confirmed that Alex had lived in Chelsea. He'd played football for his school team. But then Alex also had an Instagram account full of images of fancy country estates, a girl named Fiona who appeared to be his sister and a cute polish sheepdog called Paul Anka. Then what had the coded message been about? And who did Sabina mean when she talked about Alex's foster family?

He groaned and pressed his face into the pillow. Hopefully Sir David would clear things up, maybe he could even interview Sir Friend for the Lincoln Post whilst he was here. He pushed the thought from his mind. Alex was what mattered most.

The next morning, after he heard voices downstairs Brad ventured into the kitchen.

"Jesus Brad, you look like you haven't slept a wink!" At the sound of Sabina's voice he looked round slowly. Her dark hair was loose and untidy around her face, her eyes were red and she looked like she'd been scrubbing at her face.

"That's because I haven't." he said yawning.

"Here," said what Brad assumed was Sabina's mother, gesturing to a chair at the table "sit down and I'll make you a cup of strong coffee."

He smiled at her gratefully and sank into the seat. Sabina's dad gave her a pointed look and she moved over to him.

"Hey, Brad," she said, sitting down next to him, "I know that this is all confusing for you and you'll have a billion questions but," she paused "you'll have to trust me when I say I can't tell you and I'm sorry."

Brad nodded resignedly. He knew she didn't like him, she didn't want to tell him and that was fine. The doorbell rang and everyone's head's pricked up.

"That will be Sir David." Sabina's dad said, setting his mug of coffee down heading towards the front door. "I'll show him into the drawing room."

"Hey dad, why don't you show him into the living room? It's much more comfortable." Sabina suggested. Mr Pleasure considered her for a moment and then nodded, exiting the kitchen.

Sabina grabbed Brad's hand. "Hey, come on, I want to show you something."

She pulled him up out of his chair despite his protests once they were out of the kitchen she turned to him, annoyed.

"I was just about to get coffee-" he started but she cut across him.

"Quit whining, just shut up and follow me." she led him up the stairs, passing a closed door which Brad guessed must be Alex's room and followed her into what was obviously hers.

"Wait here whilst my father, Sir David and I talk."

"Oh good, you're getting me out of the way. Thank you very much." said Brad, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Sabina crossed her arms and looked at him. "I brought you here because you can hear every word that people in the living room say." Brad's eyes widened in surprise. "My father told me to say that line in the kitchen. He thinks it's in your and our best interests but I know that you won't be satisfied with that answer and you won't leave Alex alone when he-" she faltered, "if he comes back."

"Thank you." Brad said plainly. Sabina nodded at him and left her room, shutting the door behind her.

Brad listened to her footsteps on the stairs and then tracked her down the hallway. The door of the living room opened and the sound of three voices could be heard. Sabina, her father and the stranger's. The third must be Sir David Friend. Brad lay on the floor, pressing his ear to the carpet though he could hear their conversation as clear as if they were standing in the next room.

"It's all very messy, Blunt's involved and so is Joe Byrne, even the head of NATO was there." came Sir David's voice.

"Byrne?" asked Sabina's father "The CIA chap?"

"That's the one. It's a big fish they're going after and they all think Alex is the way forward. I got roped in because i've cooperated with them before. You have to know that I didn't know what they were planning to do before they made me sign-" he stopped abruptly. "You know I don't want Alex doing this anymore. Never would I have imagined that they would actually condone this. Blunt maybe, but Jones? I would never have expected it."

"But you're still involved aren't you?" came Sabina's voice. It sounded accusatory.

There was a sigh. "Yes," said Friend, "regrettably I am and I'm sorry for my part in this. And I'm not allowed to tell you of how much I am involved. Please don't give me that look, I didn't know what they were planning until after-"

"That doesn't make a difference" shouted Sabina suddenly, "Alex has been through enough crap this year without you, Blunt and the rest of them forcing more on him. He needed a break, he was recovering and you-"

"Sabina!" Mr Pleasure's voice cut across his daughter's.

"I'm sorry dad, but Alex just- he was trying out for the soccer team on Monday, he had homework due tomorrow and now he's God knows where, doing God knows what, with God knows who!"

"I can tell you where actually," said Friend, "I was reading the contract I signed on the way over, and I'll tell you all I can." there was a pause and then he started up again. "Alex is in Florida."

"Can you tell us what he's doing?" asked Mr Pleasure

'I'm afraid not. Though there is one detail which they've overlooked in this form. I've checked and double checked believe me. I can't believe they missed it."

"Hey, Mr Friend, er- Sir Friend." began Sabina

"Call me David."

"Er-right, David. Alex sent us this a few days ago and we've translated it. I was wondering how much you can tell us is correct." There was the sound of something being passed and a minute of silence.

"I don't know for sure about the start, but with Blunt's tactics I'd say likely." said Friend carefully. "I can't tell you anything about who this 'friend' of mine is, but please know that he definitely isn't a friend. The next line, I-"

"Am I right?"

There was silence and Brad guessed that Friend had either nodded or shook his head in answer, by the muffled gasp and intake of breath from both Sabina and her father, he assumed that Friend had nodded. There was silence again, this time lasting for a good five minutes.

"Mr Friend- David, what were you saying earlier? About Blunt overlooking something?" Asked Sabina's father finally.

"Honestly, I want to tell you, and I can legally tell you but now I wish I hadn't mentioned it, it'll only make you worry more. And when I tell you please don't do anything which might put yourself of Alex in danger."

"Tell us" said Sabina and her father together.

Friend let out a long breath. "As you know, one of the reasons why Alex is such an efficient operative is because of his age, people underestimate him and let their guard down. Blunt and Jones or someone at MI6 or the CIA, I don't know which, have come up with a rather inspired, inhumane way to keep that advantage for as long as possible. Alex is fifteen and his body is changing, or at least, it should be."

There was another silence and the sound of Friend swallowing thickly.

"There is some er-" Friend's voice, which had been level all this time wavered slightly as he talked, "technology now available, science really, that allows us to inhibit certain hormones you see, they use it for transgender youths, they block testosterone and estrogen. Well, they've slowly being giving something similar to Alex, I'm not sure how - I didn't want to ask - for a few months. The fact is that they've literally been stopping him from growing, from developing, from whatever - so they can keep using him. They've given him these pills so he can keep taking it whilst he's away. Have you noticed anything which might back that-?"

"Alex is smaller than me." said Sabina quietly, "I'm fifteen and I'm five foot five. Alex is at least an inch smaller. We researched one night for fun to see how tall we're meant to be - he's way below average and he's only grown an inch since he turned fourteen. That's not normal."

"He looks younger too," said Mr Pleasure solemnly, "people automatically assume he's in middle school rather than high school"

"That's right," continued Sabina, " and his skin is always smooth and soft, he hardly ever gets acne. I've been jealous. But if Alex is on this mission or whatever, if he's away from MI6, can't Alex just stop taking it?"

"I thought of that," said Friend, sadly, "but he'll go through withdrawal and we don't know what the symptoms are for this drug. They could be fatal. Alex will have realised that I'm sure." Friend paused and when he spoke again, he sounded as if he was about to cry. "I can't imagine what it's doing to the boy's health - both mental and physical. Knowing he has to keep taking something which is destroying his life, something that's stopping him from growing up, something which will make him a better spy for the people he hates. At least before he had the knowledge he was going to grow up one day and lose his effectiveness to keep him going but now-"

"Now he's going to be smaller for longer," said Sabina plainly, "forever if Blunt has his way."

"I don't think they intend forever," sighed Friend, "It would be impossible to keep him as a fourteen year old for that long, it would destroy his brain. I think they're expecting Alex to slip up one of these days."

"You mean-"

Silence

"Look, I've told you this because you have a right to know, you're his family but please don't do anything that will get yourselves into trouble. You can mention me all you like, I haven't spilled a word of what's written in my contract. I have powerful allies to keep me safe and I'll help you in whatever you need me to. Alex is a brave kid and he needs a break. I don't want him mixed up in anything like this."

"Thank you, David. That really means a lot to us. I know you didn't have to fly out here for uss, but we're grateful you did." there was the sound of people standing, and footsteps to the door. Once they were out in the hall, Brad could no longer hear what the voices were saying. Nevertheless, he remained on the floor of Sabina's bedroom. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, MI6? The CIA? Was this all just an elaborate hoax created by Sabina and her family? Was Alex going to jump out at him when he went downstairs?

Brad heard footsteps move back into the living room and listened carefully again. It was Mr Pleasure spoke first, in a cool, collected sort of voice. "Sab," he said quietly, 'will you go and invite Brad down from your room?"


K-Unit followed the group of americans into the building, grumbling. None of them paid much attention to the route they were taking. They came to a stop outside a door which the leader of the american squadron held open for them. Their sleeping quarters was made up of one big room, with three bunk beds lining the walls, five lockers and a small table in the centre of the room.

"We've just been on a fifteen hour flight, and we don't even get a night to recover?" said Eagle morosely, setting his bag down on a top bunk.

"It's ridiculous," agreed Snake, choosing the bed below Eagle, "I'm exhausted now, we're hardly going to be any good like this."

"Will you quit whining like little girls and just suck it up, please" Bear interjected tersely, pushing past the complaining soldiers and throwing her bag onto an empty bunk.

"Not all of us slept on the flight, Bear"

"And whose fault was that?" Bear asked, turning to face Eagle.

"Yours." He said simply

"How can it have been? I was asleep."

"Exactly," muttered Wolf under his breath, "your snoring kept us awake."

"Well excuse me for-"

A loud cough interrupted their argument.

They turned to see the entirety of B-Squadron stood at the open door.

"Sorry about them." said Hawk awkwardly, "they're always like this. Like children." he emphasised the last word and looked pointedly at Eagle and Bear.

"Come on, not even Cub was that bad" said Snake grinning.

"Hey, so, er- we never introduced ourselves?" interjected the man at the front of the group cautiously.

"Sorry," apologised Hawk once again, "that would be nice of you. We can get to know each other this afternoon."

The Delta Force man nodded and gestured to himself, "I'm Ghost, I'm the leader of B-Squadron. I specialise in stealth and maneuvers, this is Gun," he pointed to a short, stocky man "he's our sharpshooter, Apache here" he clapped the tallest member on the shoulder, "is our ammunition and aircraft specialist. Rex is our hand to hand combat guy" he gestured to the bald, heavily muscled guy, "and finally Charge is our explosives whiz and medic." he pointed to the last man who had a wide moustache and goatee.

They shook hands in turn.

"Come on," said Ghost pleasantly, "we best get going, we're meant to be in the sparring room in two minutes."

They traipsed out of the little room and followed B-Squadron to a large room full of blue training mats. The Lieutenant was stood there, waiting.

"Hurry up, I haven't got all day. Now, Sergeant Sunday will be overseeing your practice. You are to do as he says, and not." he glared at Charge and Apache, "mess around."

They saluted him and he left.

"Who wants to join the 'I hate Lieutenant Carmicheal club?" asked Eagle loudly

"Join it?" asked Charge, grinning broadly, "I'm the founding fucking member."

The afternoon, though hard work was enjoyable and K-Unit found themselves getting on rather well B-Squadron. They found that Charge and Apache were usually the two who got into the most trouble, and they clicked with Bear and Eagle almost immediately. Wolf and Ghost were both serious, but joined in with their soldiers in joking around. Snake and Hawk found fast friends in Rex and Gun who were always up for a laugh, but found themselves being dragged into trouble by their teammates.

After the sparring practice, where both sides seemed to be equally matched, K-Unit were shown to the showers and then into the canteen. They set themselves down on the benches on either side of the table. On the table was a large pot of tomato soup and beside it, ten bowls and a plate of bread rolls.

"This smells way better than the muck we usually get here." said Gun with obvious excitement.

Bear was the first to ladle the soup out of the pot and into her bowl. She grabbed a roll and dipped it into the soup. No one else was moving.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at them all.

"Are you not going to serve us as well?' Asked Eagle, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes.

Her hands moved to her hips, and both her eyebrows shot up. "What do I look like? Your Grandmother?"

Eagle grinned at her, "I'd imagine not, she's dead."

"With you as a grandson, it probably came as a relief."

"You wound me, my darling," said Eagle dramatically. Bear glared at him, fist clenching around her soup spoon.

"You, my friend," said Apache leaning over, "have the survival instincts of a moth at a bonfire."

"Tell me, my darling," said Bear sarcastically, "why are you even here?"

"I'm here because they needed the best british sharpshooter in the business." said Eagle smartly

"And they were too busy so they asked you." Snake jutted in quickly

Eagle punched Snake's arm and the soldier let out a yelp of pain. Snake returned the punch harder and Eagle yelled loudly. "Ow, Snake, I need that arm for tomorrow."

"As if!" cried Bear "Your girlfriend has needed it for the past three years but-"

"Bear!'"

"What?"

"Not in front of the americans."

"Oh, I'm sorry, is this not a good time for you?" Bear asked in mock concern.

"Okay," said Wolf loudly, "that's enough you two, keep it civil until we're back at the room."

They dished out the soup and for several minutes there was no sound but that of the slurping of soup and clinking of spoons against metal.

"So," said Ghost, mopping up the remainder of his soup with a bread roll, "are those two er-" he left the sentence hanging.

Wolf looked confused for a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. "Eagle and Bear?" he said, though a wide grin, "Never. They're both, well... They're both Friends of Dorothy."

Wolf stood from the table and called to his Unit. "Come on, we need an early night. We need to be ready to crush these Yanks tomorrow." they grinned at each other.

K-Unit bad B-Squadron goodnight and made their way back to their room.

"But seriously Eagle," Wolf said to his teammate in a low voice, "We've got target practice tomorrow and you're going to need to blow that Gun out of the water if we're going to impress Lieutenant Carmicheal"

Eagle nodded, "Don't worry Wolf," he said seriously, patting his leader on the shoulder, "I'm great at blowing people."


Hello!

It's me! With another update, finalllllyy, I'm sorry for the wait, I've just been…busy.

I hope you like the chapter, It's a long one - might be the longest yet? I'm not sure. But anyway, its a hefty boi

For those of you who don't know a Friend of Dorothy means a gay man (ish) It means more general gay men and women now I think…anyway I thought I'd clear that up.

I actually have some sense of direction as to where the story is going now and a massive thanks to Sabrina who has given me like, buckets of motivation and ideas and kept me writing until past 4am last night which meant I missed the free delivery on the McDonald's breakfast this morning.

But oh well, you have a chapter, and I'll have to make do with marmite on toast.

Again, reviews are my main source of motivation and I'm going to try and update more regularly but I think we all know which Christmas and Uni and general life, that probably ain't going to happen.

Reviews are life, I love you all, thanks for your support, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Any suggestions are always welcome!