Chapter 22: Happy New Year

Yassen Gregorovich had finished his latest assignment with his usual competence. The board had been pleased with the outcome. Three was once again approaching him for something or other. The assassin suspected it was once again about his mysterious desire for him to have a student. Well, not really mysterious, but still. Yassen had other things on his mind. Like Alex and what to do about Sarov (if he should do something). Allowing him near Alex was uncomfortable. Alex might get some silly notions of patriotism or some such rot. Cossack wanted to kill the man, but he suspected it might take careful planning. The General was a dangerous man and rumored to be quite insane at that, but Yassen was more dangerous. He directed his attention back towards Three who seemed to be walking alongside him. "Any decision on that mystery of yours?" You could almost mistake the doctor for kind, if you didn't know better. "Yes and no." The doctor sighed. Alex was going to remain with Ian Rider at the moment, however… Cossack was not a patient man. If Alex was put in danger a third time… If it was Ian Rider's fault… Well, there wouldn't be very many options for him would there? The doctor seemed to leave off after his inquiries were rebuffed. The time since he belonged to SCORPIA had long passed. He did work for them, yes, but others as well. Yassen decided to focus on his surroundings once more. The island was supposed to be secure for now, but he was not the type to take chances or rely on others for safety. Three had decided to move on, probably not wanting to push his luck. Everyone knew that he tended to be quite violent. While even he wouldn't assassinate a member of the board in a SCORPIA stronghold, there was no guarantee outside of one.

Tara Graves had an itch. One that absolutely had to be scratched. She had been watching the kid for days. It was Alex, wasn't it? Too bad his guardian seemed absolutely no fun, even if he was pretty. Honestly, she hoped Alex got off his grounding soon (she thought it was a grounding, anyway). She didn't know what about the kid drew her to watch him again and again, but she watched and waited. Tara couldn't get the idea of the three of them having something fun together (lighting fires is always fun). Her, Frank, and Alex, that is. Somehow she didn't think guardian would be up for a bit of arson. He just didn't seem the type. Too police-y. Now them and the kid - they would get along like fire and kindling. Frank seemed to know what she was thinking about. "Ms. Graves." Tara put on an innocent expression. It didn't fool Frank. "Tempting a child into arson? Tsk. Tsk." Tara snorted. Like Frank was any better. "Are you sure we can't just borrow him for a few days?" Frank's lips twitched. "Kidnapping Ms. Graves. Besides, he would be missed and I highly doubt he would appreciated being regarded on par with a library book." Tara was pouting, though she would deny it. "He's adorable and knows about fire." Frank rolled his eyes. "Still kidnapping Ms. Graves." Tara sighed. She would just have to wait. "You can call me Cousin Tara, you know." Frank casually moved towards the window with a faint smile. "It was not how I was raised, Ms. Graves."

Alex noticed Ian and Jack were finally letting up on him. Ian while nice enough, was a trained operative. He was bound to notice if Alex pulled anything big. Actually Alex had been vanishing into the basement to get away from Ian's supervision. Jack wondered where he disappeared off to, but Ian seemed to be covering for him. They also seem to have gone back to their policy of not asking each other questions. Ian didn't ask why Alex was in the lab for hours on end and Alex didn't ask about anything work related. Alex was going over the blueprints for his friends' house (amazing what the city kept on record) and coming up with a plan. He'd already gotten permission to have Tom and Jerry over after they shot off a few fireworks at their house. He reexamined the pictures again, and decided his plan would have to do. Fortunately, Tom's parents were fond of any excuse to use their fireplace. Really, the thing was an accident waiting to happen in that house. Personally, Alex doubted that Tom's parents had the time to keep up with the fire code and argue for almost eight hours a day (yes, he and Tom had counted). He carefully finished his last set of 'unfortunately placed' flammable household objects. New Years' Eve was tomorrow. Alex had the timetable planned down to the minute. Tom's parents would be out in a parody of a nice dinner that they had 'won' (Alex may have abused his computers skills). Tom and Jerry would be at his house and with any luck no one would suspect arson. Yassen had approved the plan (not that Alex had any doubt). It was strange, working ahead instead of behind other people. Fenrir seemed to have decided to glue himself to Alex's side. Alex didn't mind. It helped with the cold he couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how many layer he wore (Jack had checked for fever twice). Alex doubted it was that kind of cold. The warm furry coat once again hit his arm. Jack could joke all she wanted about walking shag rugs, but this was nice.

Alex had found (to his extreme irritation) that the internet didn't have much in the way of Mandarin and that translation were terrible at best. Eventually, he had just given up and began to write his own so that he could type, not to mention send and receive emails in the actual characters. It was buggy and slow-going at best (don't even get him started on translating an actual sentence). It was also more than slightly beyond his skill set (which was more security-base anyhow). The base of his code was the current model the Chinese government had published. He wondered what would happen if he started his own page for something along those lines. Surely, he couldn't be the only one on the planet who had issues with non-Latin based translation. Alex decided to look into after he finished his current project. Just in case, it would be through an anonymous browser. He had a feeling it wasn't a good idea to show any more of his advanced skills to anyone besides Ian or Yassen. Actually, the whole set-up of Mandarin was completely foreign. Between the pictographs, sentence structure, tones, and traditional and simplified character, it was difficult to get a firm grasp on the language at all (at least Russian had an alphabet). Alex had a feeling he might be learning for a good deal longer than it had taken with other languages. Still, the situation found him wanting to scream. The translations had been bad enough in the future and these were even worse. At least there was more than one standardized system (if you could call it that). Alex decided to wrap up his essay for Ian before he tried to take on any more work. Ian seemed to be running a theme of some sort and Alex wanted to figure out what the (indirect) message was.

Ian knew full well That Alex was up to something. He wasn't an idiot for Christ's sake. Ian had decided to cover for Alex and not interrogate him, unless things started getting dangerous. The spy had no idea why Alex was making cylinders of - Ian wasn't actually sure what it was. He had a gut feeling that it would all be over one way or another after New Year's' day. Work had been surprisingly sedate, so Ian was feeling suddenly optimistic about actually getting a holiday with Alex. He vividly remembered all of them, but felt more than slightly guilty at missing so many. Ian wondered what he should teach Alex next. More weapons? Survival skills? Ian was hesitant to take Alex anywhere actually dangerous. Heavy firepower was out for a few more years. The Stealth seemed in hand. Impulse control? Then again, it wasn't really something you could teach without being harsher than he was willing to be on his nephew. Besides, him lecturing on impulse control would be a touch hypocritical. Nobody had figured out how Alex turned up in Germany. Ian was sure he didn't want to know. Ian wasn't even sure what Alex was studying anymore. He had refused the school's' request to test Alex. Ian knew there was no way it could end well. If Alex got moved up to his actual level (Ian didn't even know what it was anymore?), he would be scrutinized heavily. Ian knew he was on really thin ice as it was. Starbright was being stubborn and the creepy wolf really, really liked Alex. The files hadn't really been clear on how smart those things were, but it seemed to understand Alex's commands in whatever language he chose that day. Ian figured he was starting a new one, since Russian swears had joined in the rest (meaning Alex was comfortable enough to be fluent). Learning Russian in around six months, even with help from his language teachers was downright impressive. Not to mention his other form of independent study. Ian was sure he didn't know half of what his nephew was up to, but he was determined to find out.

Alan Blunt didn't like surprises. Not at all, not even the nice ones. It meant that he had failed on some level to gather some information or correctly gauge a personality. Alex Rider hadn't been a puzzle at all, six months ago something had changed. If Ian thought he was being subtle about what he was doing with his nephew, he had another thing coming. Alex Rider had already been carefully bookmarked away in his mind for looking into. They could always use another good agent. Unfortunately, Rider seemed to have gone entirely anti-establishment since another few months ago. If he were older, they would have checked for radicalization. As it was, Blunt suspected more had happened with Gregorovich than even Agent Rider knew about, never mind what he told them. Then the incident with his school. It seemed professionally done, yet no demands were forthcoming. No credible claims to the action. All of the kids had about as much alibi as one could in school. The teachers had all been thoroughly vetted. Who had done it? And why? Smithers had been raving over the code, and while Alan normally wouldn't care, it was disturbing that he didn't know who it was that was in his country who was that skilled. Smithers was a genius unto himself. The man had actually dismissed his concerns. Harmless prank, his ass. If that hit every school in the country, it could end up as a national embarrassment. Not to mention, the sprinkler system had to be replaced because it had started going off in permanent random intervals and had nearly flooded the school one time (It was only because one of the safeguards had been illegally blocked, but still). They would have to let the kids go back to school and he didn't really have an excuse to investigate further. He decided that musing was getting the better of him and turned back to his paperwork.

Alex was all set. He had placed the fire-starters in the places around the house, lit the fireplace and had ensured everyone would be out of the house when it burned down. Then, Tom and Jerry would be offered an indefinite place at his house and the 'parents' would probably not need any more intervention. He was sure Ian wouldn't mind. The last step was to lay the string that would start the fire and remove the fire-alarm batteries (common mistake wasn't it?). No sense in alerting the fire department too soon, right? He would sneak off later to watch it burn (bad idea, but he couldn't seem to resist the temptation). Besides, no one would notice another gawker after the first few showed up. Tom and Jerry had packed their school stuff and a few weeks' worth of other things (they didn't own much anyway). Alex made sure they hadn't left anything they would miss if it burned. The fire would be a combination of factors. They had left the fireplace, thinking it would be fine. The parents had forgotten to replace the alarm batteries due to marital strife. An electrical problem and a few sparks would eventually turn into a raging inferno. That was how the police report would read. Alex carefully sawed through the wires, fraying the ends, so the damage looked naturally done over time. He lit the first bundle and switched the electricity back on. The thing began sparking and managed to ignite a small area of the carpet. Time to go. Alex walked back out of the house with an excited smile on his face that was only half-faked. It turned more genuine as the night wore on with Tom, Jerry, Ian, and Jack actually enjoying themselves. Fenrir had given him the most pathetic look in his repertoire until Alex surrendered some of his dinner, much to the amusement of everyone else. They set off fireworks together, but mostly watched the neighbors'. It was almost a perfect evening. After that it was bed for everyone but him and Ian.

Ian seemed determined to watch him the whole night. Alex had been hoping to sneak off after the man slept, but Ian seemed to sense his intent to leave. Alex finally gave up and dressed unassumingly before putting Fenrir on a leash. Ian was in the living room. Alex was hoping the man hadn't heard him. "Going somewhere?" Alex sighed. "Only for a walk Ian. I'm having some trouble sleeping with the noise." Ian considered him for a solid minute. "Are you sure it's just that?" Alex shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Are you coming or what?" Ian grabbed his coat. No way was Alex disappearing into the night without him. The two crunched along with the fireworks overhead. The ice covered everything. The outside was freezing. It hurt not to wear gloves. It was oddly quiet in between the fireworks, as though everyone had stopped and stared. Fenrir seemed perfectly happy with Alex's slower than normal pace. When they got toward Tom's neighborhood, the outside seemed to go perfectly still. The noise of the fireworks was muffled. The shadows seemed to eerily engulf both men at various intervals. Alex could feel the cold through his coat. His breath rose in front of him as though it were a steam cloud. Then he heard rather than saw the flickering of flames. Alex walked towards the smell of smoke. The house was a blazing, glorious inferno. The flames were beautiful. Alex felt a sense of poetic justice watching the house that was supposed to have been home for his first and oldest friend. Alex stood there and watched it burn. Fenrir sitting by his side. The moment was cut short by a sudden scream that rang out. A women (one of the neighbors) had gotten back home and was now frantically calling in the house to the police. Alex knew for a fact there would be no saving it. He almost jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Ian was standing by him. Alex finally glanced at his uncle, afraid of what he might see. Ian's expression was perfectly blank. Alex barely kept from shivering and it wasn't from the cold. "We're going home, Alex." Alex wanted to watch a bit more. "Now." No use arguing with Ian when he had that tone. Alex hoped he wasn't too mad.

Alex was expecting a lecture the minute he got home. He knew Ian knew. Ian just looked resigned, tired, and sad. "Just go to bed, Alex. I can't- Just go to bed." Alex went upstairs and promptly did so. Ian waited a good ten minutes after Alex got to bed to allow the choked sobs to come. He still wasn't recovered completely from what had been happening the past few weeks and this was just too much. Alex was ten and burning houses down. Ian would do whatever it took to keep him safe. Just what the hell was going on? Where had it all gone so wrong? Why had he not done anything to stop it? Ian decided he was not in any fit state to be seen or heard and went to his room and locked the door. He lay down on the bed and let the emotions that came from weeks of worrying and watching. What scared him the most was the ice that had entered his nephew's eyes. Ian had been willfully ignoring it before. The faint satisfaction he could get off Alex watching the house burn. Alex eyes were meant to be warm, like chocolate, not frozen like the tundra. Ian shivered, trying to feel a warmth he knew was long gone for him. He showered after that (it wouldn't do to smell like ash). Ian felt like he had failed somehow. Alex was stuck in his world and seemed to fit perfectly with it. Alex had lied for Gregorovich, shot a man, and burned down a house. Christ. It was time for a new plan, starting with knowing just how much Alex had managed to teach himself. But first, he had New Year's' day to deal with. He spent the longest time plotting, planning and staring vacantly at a wall. Ian barely registered that the sun had risen. Ian reluctantly got up and dressed. He wondered how Alex felt about passing his GCSEs, getting A-levels, and moving around for a while. Little did he know, there would be almost immediate adjustments made to that plan.

Ian hadn't really known or registered that Alex had burned down Tom's house. After the initial flurry with the parents (predictably arguing) and Alex looking suitably concerned afterwards. Ian felt frustrated with the fact that he only knew part of the story. One pleading look from Alex later and he was offering the boys an indefinite stay in his house (he was such a sucker it wasn't even funny). Apparently, that was what Alex had been after. The boys had looked so relieved at the news the house was gone, Ian was sure Alex had a good reason to burn it down after all. Apparently, it was Alex's year for adopting strays. Jack Starbright had looked all too amused at the proceedings. Ian decided to wait until she discovered the mess that three boys could make. He barely noticed Alex and Tom slipping out after he began to read the news. Jerry quickly followed. Ian decided that he'd had enough frolicking and antics and began to revise his plans (damn it, Alex had complicated things). Training time. Major training time. Alex needed to be prepared for more than just running, dodging, and hiding. It was time for the cool stuff, plus some of the really boring shit. Not to mention the information he had to pass to Alex, just in case. Ian had trips to plan, some of them with or without MI6. Ian Rider would be damned if Alex would go down without a fight. Gregorovich had better keep his hands to himself, or else. He casually sipped his coffee (it wouldn't do to pass out from exhaustion, now would it). Alex was his and only his. Now, if only the world would quit conspiring against him.

Yassen Gregorovich had chosen one of his rare days to watch the news. The number of idiots who killed themselves out of sheer stupidity had always astounded him. Today though, he was looking for something specific. Sure enough, a house had burned down in a particular neighborhood, with no fatalities. Well, now. It was a start. Alex also now owed him a favor. If Cossack was the type to publicly gloat, he would have been insufferable at the moment. As it was he stayed silent, with an impassive expression fixed on his face. The other students where he was currently residing seemed bamboozled at the sight of him engaging in such a normal activity, though they were quick to avert their gaze when he raised an eyebrow. Just wonderful. He had looked into the files yesterday. Some students held promise- about a third. The rest would only ever be competent at best. He repressed an aggravated sigh. No point in training them personally anyway; they were, after all, too old to truly reach their potential. The assassin firmly clamped down on any thoughts of Alex. It was not helpful to want what you couldn't have. His thoughts treacherously turned to the boy anyway. Skilled. Highly effective. Young enough to still be mold-able. It was all he could do not growl with envy. At least he had a new freelance assignment. It had the benefit of getting him away from certain board members as well. Sadly, Rothman was still in charge and generally used her authority to make the dinner parties about as mandatory as they could be for a terrorist organization. Yassen was on the verge of snapping someone's neck just to relieve the tension he was feeling at the moment. Another. Fucking. Dinner. Party. He was so glad an "urgent client call" was his excuse for the next couple of weeks. If he finished early, well, he had someone to visit. Actually, he'd have taken just about any job to be on the other side of the world of this. Oh well, he had a general to kill. After that, he had lined up several jobs to be completed in rapid succession. Rothman would take any excuse to have him up against a wall.

Alex felt himself twitch under Ian's scrutiny, again. The man was keeping an extra close eye on him ever since the night before. He kept expecting reprimand to come or some sort of punishment. Alex wondered vaguely if Ian would turn him in this time. His uncle had to be furious this time. Fenrir stayed near him, seemingly sensing his unease. Alex was surprisingly glad he had his furry mutant around this time. At least Tom and Jerry's parents had been easily persuaded to allow them to stay at Alex's house. His plan was working perfectly so far. Well, aside from owing a favor to an assassin. Jerry had been giving him a contemplating look, but otherwise neither he nor Tom seemed to want to question their sudden good fortune. Tom seemed to be assessing him as well. Alex didn't think he would protest too hard about his methods, even if he did suspect something. The parents were even getting the insurance money because it was an accident, an avoidable one, but an accident nonetheless. Tom was motioning for them to talk in private, again. Oh, well. Alex made sure the doors and windows were firmly closed before he let Tom begin. "Yes, Tom?" Tom seemed to shift around a little. "I wanted to say thank you." Alex shrugged. "It's not a problem, Tom." Tom looked more uneasy. "Not for staying here, mate. I meant for- you know- fixing things." Alex smiled. It was a world away from Blunt's constant criticism. A wave of warmth seemed to hit him. "You're welcome, Tom." Tom still shifted a bit. "I won't um, tell anyone." Alex raised an eyebrow. "There was never any doubt of that, Tom." Tom went in for a hug. Alex wrapped his arms around his best friend. "How did you know?" Tom gave him a small half-smile. "Well, it's kind of what you do, isn't it? Save people. Just like how bullies mysteriously transfer after they meet you." Alex snorted.

Yassen debated a less "dramatic" way of giving Alex his "gift" for New Year's, but ultimately decided the more he was used to human body parts, the better for him. Besides, it amused him to think about the shit-fit the Bank would throw when Alex got his package. Not to mention, Ian Rider. It was fun to provoke a man who could actually give him some kind of challenge. Not that he doubted his ability to best the man, it was simply that it wouldn't be easy or boring. A local gang leader was dead. Cossack had taken to calling him the Seller (drugs, near Alex's school). Yassen was so unavailable for the next few weeks. It would be such a shame he would have to miss the festivities. The staff might not even have fatalities this year. Nile had just sent him an amused and slightly knowing look when he had informed the man he would be unavailable for the rest of the holidays. Sad, he knew, but business called. He allowed a faint, amused twitch of his lips at the idea of missing as many of Julia Rothman's parties as possible without being rude. Nile had the grace to choke back his laugh until after he thought Cossack was out of earshot. It was almost time for him to go. There was a new job lined up for him somewhere in Myanmar. In certain places of the world there was always work for man of his very specialized skill set. Yassen reluctantly checked his phone that was generally reserved for SCORPIA. Apparently, Rothman's newest husband (what number were we on again?) had an unfortunate fall out of the window. Such a surprise. He knew he had made the right choice about avoiding those dinner parties. Nile was on clean-up duty. Three seemed to want the flimsiest excuse to join Yassen in his strategy for all parties and social events involving Rothman. The man had ever so politely asked if he wanted help for anything not in a fifty mile radius of "dear Julia" (he was paraphrasing). To which Cossack had ever-so-politely declined. All of his current line-ups were assassination-only. Besides, he needed a break from paranoid board members and their whims or he might just crack. There was a reason he wasn't anyone's second-in-command, and it wasn't lack of ability. Yassen had decided to simply fed-ex Alex the package. He probably wouldn't speak to him for weeks, but oh, well.

When Alex got a package on New Year's week, he was instantly suspicious. He knew that he should probably check it beyond a general look, but he found himself giving into the impulse to see what it was. They did check for bombs and stuff in the mail right? The letter opener easily slid through the tape. It was heavy. Jack had just walked in. "Who could it be?" Alex shrugged. There was only one person who mailed him stuff, but Cossack wasn't the sentimental type. Alex opened the top and was glad he had set the box down. His mouth fell open in an expression of utter shock. When he saw Jack look, he immediately snapped it shut. "Get, Ian." Jack opened her mouth. "Trust me, Jack, you don't want to see this. Please, get Ian." Jack walked up the stairs and got Ian. Alex felt torn between retching and feeling relieved. He knew for sure a certain drug dealer was no longer a threat to the world, at least. Ian came down instantly. The man moved to open the box. "Alex what- the fuck?!" Alex raised an eyebrow. "I didn't do it." Ian just looked shocked. "No, of course not." He said faintly. The cellphone came out in seconds. "Crawley, get your ass down here. Someone sent us a severed head." Crawley groaned. "Again?" Ian felt the urge to roll his eyes. It didn't happen that often. "Yes and get your ass over here. Now!" Crawley rolled his eyes. Ian never was all that patient. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." It was some of the tensest twenty minutes in Alex's life. Jack had taken a look and was now retching in the downstairs bathroom. Alex felt a stab of guilt - he had warned her, though.

Crawley was walking up the stairs, having already called Jones. Ian wouldn't have, but this was the sort of stuff the bosses actually needed to know. Jones had gotten there to. It seemed neither of them had anything better to do with their holidays. Ah, well, then. They proceeded to barge in on Alex comforting Jack and Ian pacing like a panther. Ian was not a happy camper. Jones decided to start with the basics. Gloves. You could never be too careful. "Was there a note?" Ian's eyes flared. "You think I would have Alex check for that?!" Crawley could see an impending explosion. "No, Ian, we thought you might want to check yourself, since you always want the details." Crawley was not the best at being soothing. "Where are the other two, by the way?" Alex answered this time, with a snort. "Still sleeping. They could sleep through a bombing. They'll probably be out until about ten or so." It was still early, after all. Only Ian, Alex and people with work tended to get up before eight on holidays. Jack decided to vanish and try to take Alex with her, unfortunately Crawley caught on before she finished the thought. "Alex, we'll need to interview you again, sorry kid." Alex shrugged and waved Jack on. "It's fine. I did find it after all." Crawley opened the briefcase he kept for just the occasion (body parts in the mail, wasn't the most original idea, after all). Building plastic was lain carefully over the tabletop. Alex felt the urge to leave, but he wanted to see if there was a note. At least his curiosity was stronger than his gag reflex. Crawley then proceeded to cut the rest of the box away, careful not to cut into the head (they did need it for evidence purposes and the analysts would have a fit as it was). A small, clear waterproof bag was stapled to the head. "Well, that simplifies things." Ian gave him a look that suggested dismemberment if he didn't act completely serious. Jones sighed. Alex was torn between nausea at the sight and amusement at the crassitude of it all. The person clearly had a high disregard for human life, or perhaps just the drug dealer. Crawley swapped to another set of gloves to get the note out with a pair of tongs. He didn't want to drip the blood on it. The smell of decay was apparent, though the head was clearly very fresh.

- A

One would hope you learn to tread more carefully than this in Ian Rider's hands. Otherwise you might find yourself in mine. And I am not so forgiving.

-Y

Crawley blanched when he read it and passed it to Ian. Uh, oh. The growl on his right sounded more animal than human. Ian was furious. How dare he? If he ever saw that miserable assassin's hide he was shooting, civilians or no civilians. Jones paled visibly and all of them went instinctively towards Alex. "What is it?" Jones sighed. "It seems you haven't seen the last of a certain assassin." Alex was shocked. It showed. "Yassen? Why? What does it say?" Ian was at the beginning of a furious rant on just how terrible of a person Yassen Gregorovich was. Crawley decided to head that off. "Here, kid." Alex was still surprised. He didn't even think Yassen had cared that much. It was almost dizzying and Alex felt an entirely inappropriate surge of warmth. For Yassen, this was warm and fluffy. The drug dealer was a threat, so Yassen removed him. It was a warning and a statement at the same time. Yassen was right, though. Alex definitely could be more cautious than he had been being. It also took one thing off of his to-do list, which was nice. Alex also realized that both he and the adults had been staring. "What?" Crawley delicately took the slip of paper from him. "Maybe you should sit down." Alex raised an eyebrow, unknowingly mirroring the man who had sent the note. "Why?" Ian took over. "Shock. And that interview can wait until tomorrow. Pack it up, Crawley. We'll come in tomorrow." Crawley and Jones packed up and Ian maneuvered his nephew into the living despite (half-hearted) protest by said nephew that he could walk. Ian had Alex pulled into an embrace before he quite knew what he was doing. Ian was good at spying not the touchy-feely stuff.

Ian wondered how he was supposed to talk to Alex about this. The usual talk about creeps for children didn't even begin to cover what was needed. Besides, it wasn't the usual set of creeps that he was worried about. Alex could take them just fine. It was the assassins and terrorists that Ian needed to warn Alex about. Luckily, he'd had Smithers make him something for Alex anyway. Alex was looking at him oddly. Right. "If anyone asks, the next few minutes never happened." Alex just nodded. Ian pulled out what looked like a notebook. "This is something I had one of my coworkers make. He didn't know it was for you, just so you know." Alex knew it was probably Smithers. "It looks like a notebook, but if you flip it open…" Alex thought that it was one of Smithers' niftier gadgets, even if it didn't explode. Ian apparently wanted him to have access to both the basement and MI6's databases. He was supposed to run any suspicious person he saw. Ian had warned him not to abuse the thing. It could also transmit written messages to one that Ian had. It updated whenever the network was secure enough. Alex was glad that he could run people and not have to rely on spotty contact with a certain assassin or his uncle to get information on suspicious people. Although, it wasn't the only benefit having information could get him… Alex did agree with Blunt on one thing; more information on potential enemies was always better. Alex found himself sitting there, thinking until long after Ian had decided it was ok to leave him alone. He was hesitant to contact Yassen. Alex could barely hold back nausea at the thought of the man. Alex knew that Yassen was an assassin, but it kind of sucked to be reminded so brutally of the fact. He had almost gotten to the point where what the man did for a living was mostly an afterthought that he tried not to add. Alex sighed and wondered if the charade was really worth it. Then again, he knew that his health (at least) was relatively safe with the man (though his mental health would probably be exceedingly taxed by Cossack).

Alex was troubled that night before he went to sleep. The minute he closed his eyes he saw fire. It was as though the sight of a burning house had been permanently fixed in his head. In his dream, Alex finally managed to tear his eyes from the sight and recognized at least the grey. "You somehow manage to burn down a house in every life, you know." Death was hear. Alex wasn't afraid. "Every life?" Death smirked. "Oops. Forget that little slip, Lexie." Alex felt his mouth fall open. "WHAT did you just call me?!" The figured grinned rather hideously. "If you call me Grim, your new name is Lexie." Alex snorted. "Really? Aren't you supposed to be the mature one here?" Grim rolled his eyes. "What can I say? You are a terrible influence." Alex raised an eyebrow. "We don't really see or talk to each other that much." Death rolled his eyes. "You see and talk to me more than most, you know. You don't even scream or run away in terror." Alex snorted. "I'm not really the type." Grim shrugged. "True, but you'd be surprised at how many people are. Also, right now, you take up a considerable amount of my power and concentration." Alex rolled his eyes. "So sorry messing with my life caused you problems." Death's eyes flared black. "You were the one who chose this." Alex raised an eyebrow. "It was hardly an informed decision. Ever heard of informed consent?" Death snorted. "Yep. I ignore it more than MK-ULTRA, though." Alex actually felt his lips twitch. "No, kidding." Alex decided he would at least try asking. "Why is there a burning house here?" Death shrugged. "It's one of those things." Alex wanted to groan at the non-answer. "What things?" Death sighed. "Sit down, short stack. Sooooo, you know how there are just some things you can't do without being changed permanently." Alex thought for a minute. "Like killing?" Grim sighed. "Yes. Curious example choice." Alex raised an eyebrow. "Is it?" Grim shrugged. "The house appeared here because it influences the paths your life can take." Alex was curious. "How?" Death sighed. "Your assassin and your uncle both have to acknowledge you professionally, for one. Two, you have to figure some stuff out for yourself. Three, you might notice some gradual changes to your body-" Alex interrupted him hastily. "Oh, god. You are not giving me the talk." Grim snorted. "Not those kind of changes. It'll be different, but you still have puberty like everyone else. I'll leave the rest as a surprise." Alex snorted. "Thanks for the wonderful remin- wait, what other changes?" Death smirked and vanished into a wormhole. "Fucking deities and their fucking dramatics." Alex swore as he woke up.

Meanwhile, Death knew he had choices to make. Imbuing a mortal with that much of his power over less than a decade would have interesting results. Actually, no immortal had been able to tell him, aside from a general it will make it easier to exert your influence on his form. Yeah, real helpful guys. Actually, most of his 'colleagues' stuck with adults for this sort of thing. Some bullshit about them being more able or emotionally mature. They also didn't reveal themselves or communicate with the mortal plane. They didn't have to deal with every soul of every man-child in existence. Death felt he could safely say that Alex was more mature than some adults would ever be. If he was being honest the kid was growing on him, like a benign foot fungus (not that he got such things). Drat, he wasn't really supposed to like someone this much, anyway. Favoritism was against the rules. Technically, so was what he was doing anyway, but Death had a special relationship with mortals that would allow him to get away with this without the fabric of the multiverse tearing. His relatives could bitch all they wanted, but they couldn't actually do anything now that he'd tied Alex to his own version of a soul. It shouldn't be too bad for the kid, anyway. He'd just be a bit luckier, a bit stronger, heal a bit better and move a bit faster, and be just a little prettier than everybody else. Death didn't much care how his future disciples looked, but having your energy tied to a primordial tended to do that to people. When Life had it explained it to him...he'd zoned out to be honest. Biology was only interesting if it involved how far a poison had to go before he claimed another to his realm or had someone slip from his grasp. It was something to do with how all life functioned on energy and his kind had far more in their essence.

Actually, his colleagues had been suspiciously supportive, ever since his change of plans toward the kid. Apparently, he couldn't screw with just anyone's afterlife, but if they belonged to him it was his business. He could bring short stack back from the dead as much as he wanted. Death had wondered if he'd finally gone senile when he realized he was starting to like the kid. When he'd mentioned it to his darling co-workers, they had just smirked knowingly. Fate had quipped something about them flirting with each other often enough and he'd sent a fireball at the rest of them. A little fireball. He promised. Okay, it was closer to a blast from a flamethrower, but still. Lexie wasn't the only one who liked fire. Would it be worth the trouble to give Alex the ability to conjure fire at will? Probably not, but hey he was already breaking the rules to pieces. Actually scratch that, they would have his head. Death knew full well that some boundaries were not to be crossed. No immortal could give a human a magical gift besides what could be concealed. It was a rule they had made after the disaster with the ancient humans. The Salem trials had horrified the immortals. It had also been the last time Death had ever taken anyone under his wing. The barbarians had burned them alive in the end. Ever since, no one had ever really gotten his attention. They had all been dull or evil or far too rigid in their thought process. Alex had escaped him nine? ten? Times. Death would never leave a disciple ignorant and Alex was the only one with a prayer of surviving or blending. Who didn't want to be immortal and have a ton of cool lives, anyway? Oh, well, best not to tell the kid that just yet. He didn't want the silent treatment. Alex was the only interesting conversation he got. Otherwise it was Death business this and Death business that and Death you shouldn't have broken pointless and infuriating rule number 4578. Blah, Blah, Blah. He'd perfected his tuning-out skills a century after he learned what he needed to know for this post.