The Promise (or: Alex Rider and the Marshmallow Factory - Part 2)

by an-amalgamation-of-things

When Alex's next mission to infiltrate and gather information from a local marshmallow factory goes wrong, he runs into a familiar face as he tries to make his escape. A standalone sequel to Cym's amazing Cloudy Mallows (or: Alex Rider and the Marshmallow Factory) on AO3!

Alex Rider slouched into the all too familiar tall brick building on Liverpool Street, the uneasy feeling that had settled on him when he had been called in grew more and more present with every step he took. He didn't want to be here and didn't care who knew it. Well, it was true that he never actually wanted to be in this building, but today more so than usual; his final GCSE exams were less than a month away and he needed to be revising, not saving the world, again. If he failed these exams, he would have to resit the entire year and that was not something that he wanted to do. All of his friends would move on, either to sixth form to begin studying for their A levels or they'd start an apprenticeship or go off to another place of higher education. He would be left behind, just one more thing to make him stand out from the rest of his peers, as if everything else about his life didn't do a good enough job of that already.

"Good morning, Alex," Sarah on reception greeted.

"Morning," he grumbled in reply. It had been a bad day the first time that he had been greeted by name but now, just as being here at all, he had grown used to it.

Alex was often surprised that they weren't more careful with security; Julius Grief had shown that a perfect looking replica of him could exist and anyone with the ability to do that would almost certainly regard the headquarters of MI6 Special Operations to be a prime target to attack. And yet, Alex had no code word, no means of proving his identity, nothing. Anyone who looked like him would have been able to stroll casually through the front door and would have been given a personal escort to the Director's office; it would have been an assassin's dream if eliminating Alan Blunt was their target. He kept all of those thoughts to himself, though. Admitting that murdering the head of Special Operations was something that he had thought through from the mind-set of an assassin was a sure way to ensure that he was bundled off to a top secret black site, never to be heard from again.

"I'll let Mrs Jones know that you're here. Take a seat - she'll be down soon."

Alex wordlessly threw himself down onto one of the brown leather sofas in the reception area and waited, tracing his finger over the scuff marks on the rather tired looking arm of the seat. He wallowed in self-pity for a few minutes, begrudging both the fact that he was here at all and the amount of time that he always inevitably wasted while he was waiting for Mrs Jones or Mr Crawley to come and fetch him and take him upstairs. The least they could do would be to actually be ready for him when they arrived. On second thoughts, the least they could do was actually pay him! The lift dinged as the doors opened and Mrs Jones finally walked out, interrupting his train of thought.

"Good morning, Alex," she greeted, a taut smile flashing briefly across her face as she stepped forwards, the sound of the heels on the marble floor echoing around the cavernous space.

"Mrs Jones."

Alex stood up from his seat and walked over to join her at the lift. They both got in and Alex saw Sarah give him a smile that was both encouraging and apologetic, with some other emotions that Alex couldn't identify before the doors slid shut. Well, it seemed that at least one person was sorry for the way that MI6 abused him, even if she could do nothing to stop it herself. Alex said nothing as the lift rose up to the sixteenth floor and Mrs Jones didn't initiate any conversation either. The doors opened with another ding, which seemed quieter than it had in reception, although that was probably because of the carpet muffling the sound. They exited the lift and Alex followed Mrs Jones down the familiar corridor to Alan Blunt's office. 1605. Most kids his age would associate that number with Bonfire Night - the year that Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament. He associated it with things that his classmates couldn't even begin to imagine, although each one of those things had one thing in common; death. Either Alex's own near death experiences or other people's. Lives that he had been forced to take as it had either been them or him. Alex hated Alan Blunt and Mrs Jones for what they had turned him into - a killer; he was probably responsible for more deaths than some members of the armed forces. Alex shivered as the thought occurred to him and immediately pushed it out of his mind. If he spent too long dwelling on the painful realities of his life, he would spiral out of control so quickly and deeply that he might never return. The sick feeling that had been with him since his summons the day before deepened with every step that he took and his legs became heavier and heavier until they felt like lead. They arrived outside the door and Mrs Jones opened it without knocking and walked inside. Feeling like he was walking toward his own scaffold, as he did every time he entered this office, Alex trailed in behind her and closed the door.

As usual, Alan Blunt didn't seem to notice that Alex had arrived in the room. The head of MI6 Special Operations ignored him as he finished reading a report. Alex was used to the power play by now though - the grey man really needed to come up with something new, although whatever he came up with wouldn't change the fact that Alex never had a choice in being used - and looked around the room, bored. There was nothing interesting in the room. There never was. No pictures were hung on the walls which were, themselves, just an incredibly boring shade of off white. Alex didn't even think it counted as something as bland as magnolia. After a couple of minutes, Blunt clearly decided that he had ignored Alex for long enough because he looked up.

"Alex, it seems that once again we need your assistance," he began. No pleasantries from the man then, not that Alex had expected any.

"My GCSE's are in less than a month!" Alex protested. Blunt knew this but Alex wasn't going to go down without a fight. "I need to revise!"

He thought glumly that maybe this was what Blunt had wanted all along. To ostracise him from his friends even further by making him fail enough GCSEs that he was required to resit the year. Maybe he thought that if Alex was isolated enough, he would just give in - drop out of school and 'work' for MI6 full time. If he and Mrs Jones were to be believed, that's what Ian had been training him for his whole life anyway, so what was the point in fighting it? Ian, his father, his godfather… they had all been spies so why should Alex have expected that he would be able to do anything else? Alex shook himself. No! He wouldn't let Alan Blunt destroy his life any more than he had already. He would sit his GCSE's. He would pass them and he would do well enough that he would actually have career options that weren't associated with 'The Royal and General Bank' in any way, shape or form. Alex was determined to get out of the 'family business', so to speak.

"We are aware of your upcoming examinations," Blunt said curtly. Alex got the distinct impression that the man was annoyed about whatever he was going to say next. "That is why your next assignment will only take you a couple of hours. We have identified the base of operations for a crime syndicate however we do not know precisely who it is, nor what their intentions are. We need you to break into their headquarters and download the contents of their servers. We will then know who they are and what they are planning."

"The last time you sent me on a 'data-retrieval' mission, I ended up being kidnapped and taken to Kenya," Alex spat out. The patchy burn marks across his back, and his ankle still twinging occasionally were reminders of his final confrontation with Desmond McCain on the airfield in Laikipia. Not that he needed reminding - the memories alone were seared into his brain in images that he would never forget.

"Yes, well," Blunt blustered, waving a hand as though to wipe away Alex's objections. "That was an extraordinary circumstance."

"Sure," Alex muttered. Blunt could pretend that everything would go to plan this time, just as he always did, but none of Alex's missions ever had before so why should this time be any different? Maybe other agents had more success with their missions being exactly how they were depicted in this office, but Alex had learnt to always expect the worst. Perhaps if he had been trained and was given all of the information that might be useful and given more than the gadgets that he was usually provided with, he wouldn't have to rely on luck and the fact that he was so young to get out of trouble. As if that would ever happen! "Why can't you send an adult?"

"The syndicate have set up in the marshmallow factory near the Crystal Palace. You can go in as part of a tour and sneak away to gain access to their computers. A lone adult would stick out like a sore thumb. Here is your file and Smithers has the gadgets you will need." Blunt handed over a plain (other than the bright red 'Top Secret' stamp) manila folder - it was extremely thin so Alex knew that it would contain very little information - before turning his attention back to the report that he had been perusing when Alex entered the room.

"They could get in as security or a cleaner?" Alex retorted, but Blunt showed no sign that he had heard. Alex pushed his chair back, glaring daggers at the man on the other side of the desk and wishing not for the first time that Blunt had a wooden floor so that he could scrape the chair back and cause an annoying squeak, but the floor was carpeted so the movement was practically silent. He slouched out of the office, not bothering to try and soften the sound as the door closed but not brave enough to slam it either. Hopefully Smithers would have something good for him!

The next weekend, Alex found himself at the marshmallow factory. He thought grimly that he would have loved coming here with Tom or Jack or Sabina - they would have had a great time, especially tasting the marshmallows, but this would just be another place sullied by the memories of yet another forced mission. He had managed to sneak into one of the offices and found the port that he needed on the computer and watched in tense anticipation as the memory stick did its work. The computer had woken up the instant he put the memory stick in and was in the process of copying everything that was stored not only on the computer but on all of the external servers too. Alex kept glancing from the door to his watch, all the time expecting someone to walk in and find him. The screen returned to black as the download finished and Alex breathed a sigh of relief as he snatched the memory stick out of the computer. Maybe for once this really would go as smoothly as Blunt had promised it would when Alex had been summoned to Liverpool Street. He returned the desk to exactly how it had been when he arrived and crept over to the door, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket as he walked and taking a card out of one of the slots. It was a library card in his cover name - Alex Johnson - and it doubled as a thermal imaging scanner. He pressed his thumb down onto the passport picture sized library logo and ran his other thumb and forefinger across the top and bottom edges of the card. He did this five times and when he removed his thumb, the tiny photo had changed and now enabled him to see through the walls and into the corridor. There was nobody around. Now was the perfect time to get out and go home. He put his thumb back over the picture and swiped his thumb and forefinger back the other way just once. This deactivated the thermal imaging and this time when he took his thumb away, he saw the library logo once again. Returning the library card to the empty slot and pocketing the wallet, Alex opened the door and slowly poked his head out, just to make sure that he was actually alone. There was no one around and Alex hastily closed the door and hurried down the corridor, wanting to get out of the factory as quickly as possible.

Of course, it hadn't been as simple as that. On his way out, Alex had taken a wrong turn somewhere and was now actually on the factory floor itself and he had no idea how to get out! Not that it would have made any difference if he had known the way; the guards had caught up with him while he was in the marshmallow mixing zone - escaping them was his main priority now. As he raced past the various mixers and machines, the sweet scent of marshmallow wafted over him. He couldn't see much of the process as most of the machines were enclosed, which also meant that there was nothing that he could use to throw behind him at his pursuers; Alex was incredibly annoyed that he couldn't tip over the massive bowl of marshmallow dough, which would have been perfect to impede their progress and allow him to escape. Alex continued to run. He ran through a doorway that separated two areas of the factory with some soft plastic sheeting. On this side of the doorway, the marshmallows were being piped onto a conveyor belt, slowly cooling as the conveyor belt moved until they could be packaged. That gave him an idea! Alex knew that by the end of this stage of the making process, the marshmallows would be cool enough to handle and if he got it right, they would still be incredibly sticky too. So if he threw them at his pursuers, it might slow them down enough to allow himself to slip away. He made some quick calculations as he ran, risking a glance behind him at the same time. The guards didn't seem to be armed for once, which would work in his favour. Deciding that it was now or never, Alex lunged for the marshmallows on the conveyor belt.

Alex could hardly believe that his plan worked. Well, it didn't work exactly how he'd pictured it in his head, but he'd had to throw the marshmallows and hadn't had a cannon that would launch an enormous amount of dough at his pursuers! He ran on, knowing that he wouldn't have much time before they freed themselves enough to continue chasing him. Alex rounded a corner and licked the remaining marshmallow dough off of his fingers.

"Yummm, such good dough, I can't let it go to waste..." he laughed to himself. "It'd make me a criminal, too!" He continued to run, all the while looking for a way out.

Alex swore as he came to a dead end other than a staircase leading up. He was already on the ground floor but didn't have a choice about climbing the stairs; the guards had reached the other end of the corridor and were already closing in. And now Alex could see pistols in their hands, ready to fire. Great! He ran up, taking the stairs two at a time and ran down the corridor which looked like it contained nothing other than more offices; there didn't seem to be a way down so Alex carried on running, hoping that he would come across a staircase or lift or something. The walls on either side of him suddenly exploded all around him and Alex could see the bullets whizzing past. Then came the sound of the gunshots which were deafening in such an enclosed space. Alex continued running down the corridor, hoping against hope that he would come across a way of escape. Being shot to death in a marshmallow factory was definitely not his idea of a good time but he still couldn't see a way out. No staircase. No lift. No fire escape. Alex dodged and ducked and weaved, miraculously avoiding all of the bullets that were whizzing past him, but he knew that his luck wouldn't last forever.

Ahead of him, at the end of the corridor, was a glass window which looked out onto the factory floor. Well the window was his only way out; the rest corridor was a dead end and he didn't dare open one of the doors to check whether they concealed a way out – if he stopped for that long, he really would be dead. And if he couldn't jump through the window, he would be gunned down and nobody would ever know what had really happened to him. But if he could get back down to the ground floor, he should be able to find a way out. The glass got closer and closer as he ran. Alex was surprised that it hadn't shattered yet and really hoped it would before he reached it. Thankfully, he didn't have to hope for long. With the next wave of bullets, at least one of them hit the glass and it splintered, the glass cracking around the point of impact like a spider's web; it must be reinforced, just as Alex had expected. More bullets whizzed past him and the closer to the window he got, the more bullets hit the glass, weakening it. Alex could only hope that it would be enough.

"Stop!" Alex heard someone give the order just as he was about to launch himself through the window, but ignored it. He wasn't going to give up that easily. He was quite high up and would just have to hope that he would have a soft landing. Well, whatever happened, it would be better than being gunned down by the firing squad. Although, he found himself thinking that drowning in a tank of marshmallow dough wouldn't be much fun either. And even as he thought that, Alex shivered with the strangest sense of déjà vu. That was odd! But he didn't have time to dwell on that now - he would have to work it out later. Building up as much momentum as he could over the last couple of steps, Alex leapt. Glass exploded all around him; the window had finally shattered with the added pressure of his body weight slamming into it. Alex fell.

He was even higher up than he had originally thought… not ideal. But he had probably found the best place to jump. He was at the end of the production line and directly below him was the final packing area. Bags full of soft, squidgy marshmallows were piled up, waiting to be packaged into boxes and distributed all over the country. And they made the perfect landing pad, although he was slightly winded by the force of his landing. Alex's hands were sticky and for a moment he feared that he was going to look down to see blood but when he looked, he saw that it was just marshmallow dough. He was unhurt other than a couple of cuts from the glass as he broke through the window but they weren't deep enough to cause him any alarm. His main concern was the guns from the guards who had chased him down the corridor… and any others who might be waiting for him on this level. He didn't wait around and began scrambling out of the mound of marshmallows, trying to get as far away from the guns as possible.

Now with both feet firmly on the floor and having backed out of sight of the observation window, Alex took a rare moment to assess his situation and work out the best plan of action. Normally, as soon as he was safe from one set of guards, another inexplicably turned up immediately in his new position… but he seemed to have an unexpected moment of quiet this time. The upper floor extended out over the warehouse so provided he hugged the wall, he would be able to stay out of sight from anyone on the floor above. Once he was safe from the guards above him, he looked around and saw three doors that led away from this room. One was an emergency exit that he ruled out immediately as it was on the other side of the factory floor and would necessitate his running out in the open. Anyone at the observation window would be able to pick him off with ease. That left the two doors in opposite corners of the room. Without any real reason, Alex made his decision and headed off towards the door over to his right.

Just as he had expected, by hugging the wall, nobody on the upper floor could see him. Although why none of them had taken the plunge and followed his dive into the marshmallow pile, he didn't know. Pushing down his feelings of unease at how easily they had allowed him to escape from their reach, Alex ran over to the door. He slipped through and continued running down the corridor on the other side. He skidded to a halt as he ran past a room and flashes of white caught his eye. Doubling back, Alex saw that this room would provide exactly what he needed - a disguise. The room was full of white lab coats, blue hair nets, hard hats, plastic booties to cover shoes, protective goggles and ear defenders. Moving quickly, Alex grabbed the nearest coat.

In less than a minute, Alex was suitably inconspicuous and would look like any of the other workers in the factory, even if the plastic booties would make it harder to run if he needed to. There was a sink in the locker room too, so his hands weren't sticky with marshmallow dough anymore either. He was making progress to escape the factory! He poked his head out of the doorway. The corridor was empty and he walked out, continuing to move away from the factory floor. Was it suspicious that he didn't see any other people walking along the corridors as he tried to find a way out? He really hoped it wasn't.

It was only when he turned another corner and came across a couple of people in overalls but without any of the additional food safety clothing and protective equipment that he realised how out of place he looked outside of the factory floor. He should have realised that employees would only wear the lab coats and hair nets and booties when they were actually around the food. And the ear defenders and goggles would only be necessary if you were in close proximity to loud machinery for any length of time. He had, inadvertently, made himself stand out like a sore thumb! Well it was too late to worry about that now - he had been seen! If they hadn't been paying attention, Alex might have been able to slip past two employees unnoticed, but the looks on their faces told him that he was in danger. He turned and ran.

He reacted a lot quicker than the two employees that he had just seen. From his brief glimpse of them, he hadn't seen any weapons and could only hope that they weren't part of the security team. They might be able to raise the alarm and give chase but since they weren't armed, Alex wasn't too concerned. Slipping slightly as he rounded a corner - he debated whether it would be better to pause and remove the booties to give himself better grip or just to keep going - Alex glanced behind him. The two employees had, indeed, begun to follow him at a run, but there were no guns in sight. He smiled to himself. They would only pose a significant threat to him if they managed to catch and stop him for long enough for the security guards to find them.

Alex rounded yet another corner - why were factories designed like mazes with corridors indistinguishable from each other? - and skidded to a halt. There was a man standing there, hands on his hips, a gun holstered at his side. Alex gulped and looked up into the face of the man who was blocking his path. He realised with horror that he knew this man although he was slightly surprised to see him standing here. The last time he had seen Yassen Gregorovich had been on Air Force One. That had been over a year ago and Alex had watched Yassen die. Damian Cray had shot him and Yassen had died. Except obviously he hadn't because he was standing here now. Well, if Yassen Gregorovich was being employed as part of the security detail, there was definitely something nefarious happening at the factory… not that Alex would live long enough to be able to pass the message on. The two employees who had been chasing him came around the corner and stopped seeing that the situation was under control. Alex could hear them panting, trying to catch their breath, after the short chase. Alex himself was breathing quicker than normal and his heart was hammering in his chest, although his was not from being unfit or from the run… this was terror, pure and simple.

He knew that he had no chance of evading Yassen Gregorovich, especially now that the assassin was standing directly in front of him. He resigned himself to his fate and didn't resist as Yassen grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip and marched him down one of the corridors. He was dragged along and tried to remember which turns they had taken just in case he did get an opportunity to run but they were all just plain white walls with nothing to distinguish them in his mind. Left. Left. Straight ahead. Right. Eventually, they came to an office and Alex was shoved unceremoniously inside and forced to sit on an uncomfortable wooden chair in front of the desk. Yassen stood, leaning against the wall next to the desk, examining Alex but saying nothing.

There was nobody else in the office and Yassen didn't seem to be eager to begin his interrogation so Alex took the opportunity to examine the office. Once again, he felt an inexplicable sense of déjà vu wash over him. He couldn't understand it. Drowning in a marshmallow tank and this particular office. As he had run down the corridors and smashed through the glass, Alex had been reminded of the chase through the Greenfields Bio Centre but this feeling was different. It was more like he had actually been in this exact position before. But that was impossible, wasn't it? MI6 had never sent him to the marshmallow factory and he couldn't remember ever going with Ian or Jack. And even if he had gone with them, he wouldn't have been to this office. They would have just done the tour, probably bought copious amounts of marshmallows and gone home. His brain didn't provide any more answers as he sat in silence as he looked around the office while Yassen examined him. He got the strangest feeling that Yassen was looking at him as though he expected something to happen. But what the assassin expected to happen, Alex didn't know.

A couple of minutes later, a rather harassed looking man entered the room. He was probably in his mid-forties, but his thinning and grey hair made him look a lot older. Alex dubbed him 'Grandad' just for the sake of calling him something in his mind.

"Have you searched him?" Grandad asked, talking to Yassen.

Yassen signalled for Alex to stand up. He complied, knowing that resisting would be no use anyway. As per usual, MI6 hasn't provided him with any traditional weapons, but he did have his wallet with a few cards associated with his cover identity and the memory stick that he had inserted into a computer and which had downloaded all of the data on the server. When Yassen found that, it would be game over. His fake name would immediately tell Yassen that he was here on a mission and all they would have to do was plug the memory stick in and they would know that he had stolen the information. He tensed as Yassen patted him down, waiting for the moment when he found it. And it wasn't even hidden! It was just in his inside jacket pocket, where he had shoved it once the download had completed. Alex hardly dared to breathe as Yassen removed the memory stick from his pocket and then continued his search. He also found Alex's wallet, keys and phone which he placed on the desk.

"He's clean," Yassen announced when he had finished and Alex saw him surreptitiously slip the memory stick into his pocket.

Alex had to force himself to keep his face neutral. Yassen had found the memory stick. He must have suspected that Alex had either downloaded the data or had intended to before he was intercepted… so why was he lying? What did Yassen have to gain by keeping this information from his employer?

"Sit down, please." It was the other man - Grandad - who had spoken. Alex sat back down in his seat on the other side of the desk and examined the man sitting before him. He didn't look very dangerous, well not like most of the people that Alex had come across in the last couple of years, but he knew that looks could be deceiving. If this man was working with Yassen Gregorovich, or had employed the assassin, then he was clearly up to no good. Like Alex, he was wearing a lab coat. He had been wearing a hair net and helmet too, but these had been put down on the desk, as had his goggles and ear defenders.

"What's your name?" Grandad asked, beginning the interrogation.

"Alex Johnson."

"Do you have any identification?"

"I'm only fifteen. I don't have a driving licence or anything."

"How about a passport?"

"That's locked in the safe at home."

"So you have no way of proving who you are?"

"…No?" Alex said, purposefully sounding confused. Did this man really expect a teenager to be able to prove their identity? Nobody carried their passport around with them in everyday life. Well, no one of his age, anyway! "Oh wait, I've got a library card if you want to see that?" he offered helpfully.

He watched as Yassen flicked his wallet open and pulled out the library card. He examined it for a second before showing it to Grandad. Alex knew that other than his name being printed on the card, it would do nothing to prove his identity. There was no photo. No date of birth. Nothing. But that was precisely the point. The most a fifteen year old would have by way of identity was a bank card but, just as with a library card, all it could do was confirm a name. And not all teenagers would have had one anyway.

"Did you come here with anyone today?"

"No," Alex admitted. It probably wasn't wise to admit that he was here alone but he couldn't claim to have come here with anyone because then they would be able to find out that he was lying and then they wouldn't believe anything else that he said. Although if Yassen decided to, he would be able to say exactly who he was and break down any cover that he set anyway. Alex just had to hope that whatever had prompted him to stay quiet about the memory stick would keep him quiet about his true identity too. "What's going on? Am I in trouble?" he asked innocently, allowing an edge of panic to creep into his voice.

"So what business did you have here today, Alex?" Grandad ignored Alex's question and continued his interrogation, although Alex had to admit that it was the tamest interrogation that he had ever been a part of!

"I was on the tour," he began, still looking confused and a little scared. "It's my mum's birthday in a couple of weeks and I was thinking about buying her a tour as her present. But I somehow managed to get separated from the rest of the tour part of the way around. I tried to catch up with them but I must have taken a wrong turn. And then people started shooting at me with guns and I panicked and ran." As he spoke about the guns, Alex had deliberately sounded terrified, just like any normal teenager would have done if they had just been running for their life. The man on the other side of the desk examined him, weighing up his story. Alex could only hope that he believed him. He was taking a long time to come to a decision.

"Please accept our apologies for any distress that you have been caused today," the man said eventually. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, it seemed as though his age had saved him. "Here is a coupon that you can spend in the shop and another for a couple of free tours to make up for your disrupted one today," he said, pulling the two pieces of card out of the top drawer of his desk and handing them over.

"Thank you," Alex said cautiously. If he had been a normal teenager who had gotten lost on a tour and then almost been gunned down by the security team, another tour would be the last thing that he would have wanted to do. But it was more compensation than he would get from MI6, so he took it gladly.

"My colleague will escort you back to the shop," the man said, standing up and extending a hand. "And, once again, our apologies."

Alex stood up too, following the man's lead, and with confusion mixed with relief etched across his face, shook the Grandad's outstretched hand.

"This way," Yassen said as he opened the door.

Other than those two words, Yassen was completely silent as he led Alex down the various corridors to their destination. Alex had thought that now that they were alone, he might get some answers but that didn't seem very likely.

"Can I have my memory stick back?" Alex asked after a few corridors of silence, choosing not to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Yassen just gave him an indecipherable look in reply.

"Please? It's got my coursework on it."

Yassen gave him another look. "This evening," he said after a second.

"What do you mean 'this evening'?"

But Yassen didn't reply, despite Alex's repeated attempts to get answers. And soon enough they arrived at the shop. Alex saw that there were still a couple of people who must have been on the tour still milling around, trying to decide between the different marshmallow flavours.

"Put your safety clothing in the basket by that door," Yassen directed.

Alex looked to where he was pointing and saw the basket by the door that must have been the end of the tour.

"Do not attempt anything else. Put your things away and leave."

"Can't I look around the shop?" Alex whispered indignantly. Yassen looked at him with what might have been amusement.

"I think you will enjoy the Banoffee Mallow," Yassen said, a smile glancing across his face for the briefest of moments so that Alex wasn't quite sure that he hadn't imagined it. He made no motions to move towards the basket that Yassen had pointed out, instead trying to read the man before him. It was impossible and when he remained motionless for a couple of seconds, Yassen pushed him forwards. Alex took the hint and walked over to the door, depositing the various items of protective clothing into the basket. When he turned around and looked back over to where they had been standing, Yassen had gone.

Alex resigned himself to the fact that he would just have to wait for this evening to get some answers and began to move around the shop, eating some samples of marshmallows that sounded delightful and making a note of the ones that he particularly liked. In the end, he ended up using his complimentary voucher to buy a packet of Mr S'more Mallow, another of Mr Cinnamon Mallow and several large Mallowmen. Bizarrely, Yassen's suggestion of Mrs Banoffee Mallow had been a good one, so he'd picked up a packet of those too. While the shop assistant bagged up his items and scanned the voucher, Alex glanced back to the doorway that Yassen had brought him through. He thought he could make out a shadowy form that must have been Yassen, making sure that he would actually leave the factory. When he looked back a moment later, he couldn't see anyone there.

"Enjoy the rest of your day!" the shop assistant said cheerfully, handing Alex his paper bag.

"Thanks, you too!" Alex replied before walking away.

Alex hurried home, not stopping until the front door was locked behind him and he could finally relax. Despite Yassen letting him go, Alex had spent the entire journey back home feeling as though the assassin was going to reappear out of nowhere and drag him off somewhere to finish him. And that feeling didn't really diminish for the rest of the afternoon. Yassen had implied that he knew where Alex lived - they hadn't arranged a different meeting place, anyway - and he was planning to visit this evening… the only consolation was that Jack was away for the weekend with some friends, having a girly retreat at a spa. She, at least, would be safe if things turned ugly.

Alex sat on the sofa, the plate from his dinner on the seat beside him. He hadn't particularly felt like eating but knew that he had to and the blob of now congealed ketchup did not make him feel better; Alex hoped it wasn't an omen for how the evening would turn out. Yassen was coming and Alex had no idea what that meant for him. Presumably the assassin would have examined the contents of the memory stick this afternoon and found that it did not contain any coursework but all of the information from the marshmallow factory servers. And once he knew for sure that Alex had been sent by MI6, there was no way of telling what the assassin would do to him. The television was on but Alex wasn't paying any attention to it. He was home alone and expecting an assassin. It didn't make for a relaxing evening.

He now wondered whether his decision to not get any back up was a wise one. In the light of the afternoon, Alex had reasoned that the fact that Yassen had not given him away in the office, and the fact that he had saved Alex's life several times before, meant that he would be safe this evening. And he wanted answers and knew that he would get none if Yassen was either arrested before he got a chance to speak or if he took out all of MI6's agents and then left without saying anything. But now, after the sun had set and darkness had closed in, Alex felt increasingly like he had made a mistake. What if he had been wrong? What if Yassen hadn't said anything at the factory because he wanted to be able to deal with Alex himself? Perhaps more slowly and painfully than he would have been allowed to if his current employers had been involved. He had gotten the assassin shot and destroyed his last assignment, after all. And Yassen had killed Ian. Alex's father had betrayed him when he first joined Scorpia. They had a much more complicated history than Alex had understood either of the previous times that he had encountered the assassin but that history was not necessarily a good thing. If Yassen decided to deal with him, Alex had no doubt that he would just disappear. MI6 would probably never find any trace of what happened to him. Jack would be devastated. He would simply disappear from the face of the earth. There would never be any answers. Alex gulped and tried to clear his mind to calm down.

The sound of a key turning in the lock followed by the door opening interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at his watch. It was only 8:30; Jack wasn't supposed to be coming home until tomorrow afternoon; unless she had had a massive falling out with her friends and decided to come home early without letting him know, this was not Jack. Nobody else had a key to the house but the person who had just let themselves into the house hadn't called out in greeting like she would have done. The door closed and the quiet footsteps that made their way down the hallway definitely did not belong to Jack. Alex stood up from the sofa and tensed himself.

"Good evening, Alex," the assassin said as he entered the living room. In fact, he had started speaking before he entered the room, almost as if he had known where Alex was waiting.

"Yassen," Alex replied curtly. His mouth was so dry that it was all he could do to utter the two syllables, although he took Yassen's gunless hands to be a good sign.

Yassen took a cursory glance around the room. "We are alone, yes?"

Alex nodded slightly, his mouth, if possible, had become even drier in the past couple of seconds and he didn't trust himself to be able to speak.

"Good." Yassen sat down on one of the sofas.

"Why do you have a key to my house?" Alex blurted out, surprising himself. He took a seat on one of the other sofas, trying to show that he wasn't afraid. He didn't think it worked.

"After I let myself in through the window on two occasions, Ian gave me a key. He said that getting a key cut was cheaper than having a glazer keep coming to replace panes of glass."

That certainly wasn't the answer that Alex had been expecting and he sat silently for a few seconds trying to work out what to say. In the end, Yassen broke the silence for him.

"You know, little Alex," he began, almost conversationally, "I made a promise to your uncle once. A promise that you are making incredibly difficult to keep."

"What?"

"As I am sure you are aware, I have rather an involved history with your family. However I am the only person who knows precisely how involved that history is."

'Yeah,' Alex thought bitterly. 'Because you killed the only other person who would have been able to tell me the truth.' He said nothing out loud though. He just let Yassen continue telling his story, thinking that interrupting and antagonising the assassin would not be the wisest thing to do.

"You already know that your father was my mentor when I first joined Scorpia. I suspect you also know that he was a double agent working for MI6?"

Alex nodded again, unable to find any words but his mouth was still so dry that he doubted he would have been able to speak anyway.

"There are many things I could tell you. One day, perhaps, I will tell you about your father but that story is too long to tell tonight."

"You said you made a promise…" Alex prompted.

"Yes." Yassen paused. "Today was not the first time you have been to that marshmallow factory."

"What?"

"You went once before, with Ian." Alex didn't know how to respond to that so he waited for Yassen to continue. "You were five years old. Alan Blunt suspected that the factory was involved in the manufacture of drugs and gave Ian the option between investigating the factory or being sent on a long-term assignment to infiltrate a Snakehead. Ian, naturally, elected to remain in London. Blunt's original proposal was that Ian would investigate while you were on the tour however Ian refused to leave you alone and persuaded Blunt to send another agent to investigate while the two of you provided cover."

So the head of Special Operations had been using him for years. Alex supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Alan Blunt was a master manipulator, after all.

"The agent who went with you was discovered and because the three of you had arrived together, you and Ian were also questioned."

Yassen's story had unlocked some memories in Alex's mind. He vaguely remembered Ian mistaking him for a talking marshmallow and wanting to eat him… although he realised now that his uncle had been joking. Alex recalled that, at the time, he had been sure that Ian was actually mistaken. He also remembered gazing down into a massive tank where the marshmallow dough was being mixed. And wanting to swim in it. Well that explained his feeling of déjà vu earlier! And he kind of remembered a woman but all he had was a vague outline with no identifiable features. Why was his life so confusing?!

"My employer believed that the other agent had been using Ian and you as their cover to get into the factory to search for evidence. He did not realise that Ian was, himself, an agent. So after listening to your version of events and Ian's 'cover' story, the two of you were allowed to leave."

"Wait, my version of events?" Alex asked.

"Yes. Even at age five, your 'inner Riderness' as Ian called it was extremely well developed." Alex was puzzled by this remark but Yassen continued before he could question it. "You purposefully made yourself seem younger than you were, I think so that my employer would allow you and Ian to stay together. And you didn't correct him when he referred to Ian as your father. You also, perhaps inadvertently, inquired about the recipes and my employer, believing that he was safe from the intelligence agencies, unintentionally confirmed that the factory was a front for drug production. And once the two of you were on your way home, you asked Ian to call the real police because you thought that we'd been lying and something bad had happened to the agent that you came with, rather than being arrested like you had been told."

Alex was speechless as he took all of this in. Yassen, perhaps sensing that Alex needed a moment to gather his thoughts or just because he was comfortable sitting in silence until he needed to speak, said nothing more.

"You said you made a promise," Alex said again after a few minutes.

"Yes," Yassen confirmed. "After the incident in the marshmallow factory, Ian and I talked. That hadn't been the first time that we met on a mission and it certainly wasn't the last, but this was the first time that Blunt had involved you. As I said, Alan Blunt gave Ian the choice of taking you to the marshmallow factory or being sent to investigate one of the Snakehead's, long term. Ian knew that the only way to keep you safe was to do that mission; with the number of enemies that both he and your father had made, he needed to be able to continue to access MI6's intelligence. And he needed to be with you, here in London, rather than half way across the world. He only took on Miss Starbright when Blunt refused to allow him to stay on short term, local assignments any longer. She provided stability for you and Ian knew that you would be looked after while he was gone. It may not have seemed like it, especially as you grew older but Ian cared for you more than anything, Alex. He hated the long term assignments that meant that he could not be at home with you. All he ever wanted was to keep you safe and in order to do that, he needed to continue working for MI6. I promised him that I would keep an eye out for you if anything happened to him. I promised him that I would keep you safe."

"Why?" It was all Alex could think to say. Everything the assassin had told him since he had walked into the house was too overwhelming to try and comprehend right now.

"Why did I promise to keep you safe?"

Alex nodded, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking. Yassen hadn't said as much but Alex had been able to read between the lines. Blunt had used him to blackmail Ian into accepting longer and more dangerous missions, just as he had used Jack to blackmail him to go on his first mission. With all of the lies and manipulation, Alex had begun to wonder over the last year and a half whether Ian had actually cared about him or whether he had simply been training him up to follow in his footsteps. But Yassen had just told him that Ian had cared about him more than anything. That all he had wanted was for Alex to be safe. That he cared enough that Alan Blunt had been able to use it as leverage to get his way. And that knowledge blew away all of the doubts and fears that had crept up on him ever since he had been dragged into the dark world of MI6. Just knowing that Ian had loved him so much packed a powerful punch, rendering him practically speechless. Why Alex trusted what the assassin had just told him over everything that MI6 had told him about his uncle, he didn't know but Alex knew in his heart that this was the truth.

"There are many reasons, little Alex. Firstly, your father. He saved my life in so many ways and I owe him a debt. More than that though, we were friends and I would never have done anything to hurt him. Secondly, Ian. We had a rather uneasy truce when we first met, initially because of your father, but that soon developed into a reasonably amicable working relationship. As much as it is possible to in our line of work, we didn't interfere with each other's objectives when we met whilst working. We even worked together on occasion, and as time went on, we became unlikely friends. Thirdly, and this isn't the final reason but it is the last that I shall cover tonight, is you. I know what it is to be sucked into this world at such a young age. It is something that no one should ever have to deal with and if I can protect you from some of the horrors that this life has to offer, I will. If I had my way, I would have protected you from everything but MI6 got ahold of you before I could."

"But…" Alex interjected, puzzled. "But you killed Ian! You just said that you worked together and became friends but you killed him and because he died Blunt was able to use me!" Alex was angry now. He knew that the assassin had killed Ian - Mrs Jones had told him as much and Yassen had confirmed it when they first met. They were delving deep into his past tonight and his emotions were already a mess but how could Yassen come here and spout that he and Ian had been friends when Alex already knew that he had been responsible for Ian's death. That hadn't been protecting Alex! That had thrown him straight into the spider's web! And now, he was like a fly, stuck with no way out.

"Alex-"

"-No! No more lies! You told me that you killed Ian when he was in Cornwall. You made me fight a bull! And then everything that happened with Cray! You sent me to Scorpia and because of my dad they nearly killed me! How can you sit there and say you made a promise that you would keep me safe and go on about all of the reasons behind it when there's so much that proves otherwise?"

"I will explain, if you let me," Yassen replied calmly.

"Fine," Alex spat out, surprising himself with his willingness to let the assassin explain. But he was tired. He was tired of all the lies and manipulation and for once he just wanted the truth. Why he expected to get that from Yassen Gregorovich over MI6, he didn't know. Logically, Alex thought that he shouldn't have trusted a single thing that anyone in the intelligence community told him, but for some inexplicable reason (probably the same one that told him Yassen had been telling the truth about how Ian really felt about him), he trusted that whatever Yassen was about to say, it would be the truth.

"Thank you." Alex rolled his eyes but didn't actually interrupt. "When we spoke on that rooftop after the Stormbreaker operation, you accused me of killing Ian. I knew that nothing I could say would have changed your opinion of me at that moment. In fact, if I had tried to deny it, I would have pushed you right back into MI6's arms and I wanted to try and keep you as far away from them as possible." He sighed. "I thought that if you had some closure about Ian's death, it might have been enough to keep you away from MI6. At that time, I did not realise that they had blackmailed you. I did not realise that you had gone on the mission, not to get answers about Ian's death but to stop Miss Starbright from being deported. If I had realised that, events might have happened… differently. All I said on the rooftop was that I killed a lot of people. I never confirmed that I killed Ian because I did not. MI6 knew that I was on that mission and presumably concluded that I had been responsible for Ian's death. Had they investigated, they would have known that I was in a submarine when Ian was killed. As for the bull fight, that was the only way to stop either Franco or Raoul from shooting you dead. When you got injured, I went to get the fight stopped but before I could do anything, you had made yet another remarkable escape." Yassen paused and took a breath. "Everything else with Damian Cray was…" he paused again, trying to find the right word. "Well, you were there when I refused to kill you. That was not the first time that I disobeyed a direct order to kill you and it certainly wasn't the last. I suppose that brings me to Scorpia. Sending you to them was a mistake."

"Yeah," Alex replied darkly. "I suppose 'mistake' is one word for it."

"I am sorry, Alex. I was not thinking clearly… blood loss tends to do that to you. In that moment, I did not remember that your father was a double agent. Had I been in my right mind, I would never have told you to find them."

Alex paused. The reason that Yassen had blood loss was because he had refused to kill Alex and Cray had shot him for it… why was nothing in his life simple or straight forward?

"Anyway, back to today. That night when Ian and I spoke after you were both apprehended in the marshmallow factory, I made a promise to him that I would keep you safe. I have tried to dissuade you from being part of the intelligence community, but it is becoming increasingly clear that you have absolutely no power to stop MI6 from sending you to do their work. So I am here to offer you a deal. MI6's agents will be here in-" he paused and looked at his watch, "-approximately ten minutes. I can either continue to do my best to protect you whilst you are still in Alan Blunt's clutches or we can leave, now, and I will ensure that MI6 are never able to use you again. It is your choice. I will accept whatever you choose and help you through whatever path you decide to take. But it is a choice that you alone must make, and quickly."

Alex stared at him in shock. Just a few short minutes to make the biggest decision of his life. The seconds ticked on inexorably and Alex's mind raced as he tried to decide what to do.

"Okay," he said after a couple of minutes. "I've made my decision."