A long run and workout ingrained as routine after Malagosto, were relished when he had the time and freedom to do so. When exercising unobserved, he became the graceful and deadly operative as he put each of Yermalov's lessons to good use. Since Venice, early mornings were Alex's favourite time of the day. Better than any therapy session, one thing that had been insisted as a new normal after his last abduction. A problem as Steiner had tainted therapy and therapists for the young spy for life. The cool shower allowed him to decide what titbits would be shared with the MI6 approved psychologist. His hours of solitude were completed as the teenager made breakfast in bed for Jack, who been out on the lash last night, her new normal since she was flash with cash. The majority of her reward money had been wisely invested wisely ensuring a generous monthly income.

Only around Jack and Tom, did Alex feel his actual age, not stressed out by the horror of two years of operations or self conscious over his scars. Yet, he still kept aspects of himself private. Truly living as a spy, with secrets and masks even during downtime and medical leave. He was relieved MI6 no longer wanted to use him, though they had said that before. Knowing his luck, as soon as Sixth form started he'd be off again, chasing megalomaniacs and infiltrating terrorists. The weird thing, since Cairo, MI6 had not commented his change in attitude. True, they had very little to do with him trying to rescue Jack until the Grimaldi's almost killed him. Funny, rather than being doomed to drown, he had been preparing to dislocate his left thumb to get out of handcuffs, just like Ross had described, only Fox had saved him the pain.

Open and happy to take down Nightshade, with no qualms except keeping up with school. He had even persuaded Jack that this was OK. Still treated like a volunteer, both sides pretending the blackmail after Ian's death never happened. At sixteen, he had contingency plans. Did he believe Tulip's promise of spook free A Levels and university, not a chance considering she was now on sabbatical to be full time mum to William and Sophia. Crawley was on long term sick leave, so whoever SIS put in place at the Bank would come calling sooner rather than later, considering his skills set. They never considered the physiological and psychological toll before, not when their weapon had an unbroken record of success.

The waffle maker had been bought last year and was equipment only he used, probably a gift since Jack had no interest in cooking beyond the toaster and microwave. It had been Liz who had showed him how simple cooking could actually be. Mixing eggs, milk, flour and sugar to form the batter was beyond Jack's level of culinary skills. Fluffy Belgian style delights were smothered in squirty cream, sprinkles and maple syrup. Glasses of orange juice were also on the tray. Nothing too fancy, but a delicious treat. A sweetener for the hard talk he had planned, one on hold since Cairo.

The party girl ate every bite and noted Alex was picking at his second waffle, not demolishing the carbs like a teenage boy should. "Ok, I can take a hint. What's up?"

"I have an early birthday present for you." Alex handed over his envelope. A business class ticket to Washington DC for next Monday. One way, because he wasn't a kid anymore. Jack had spent nine weeks with her parents when he was MIA. She had only returned to London, when he and Crawley finished the job taking down Nightshade. The deputy manager of MI6 Special Operations had been not at total asshat about Alex being unorthodox and underhand using all the skills learned and not forgotten after Malagosto.

The American looked at "Alex, babe? How can you afford this?"

"Ian's unused air miles." Normally non-transferable, but based on practical application skills, Alex was going to get an A* in Computer Science even without attending 50% of lessons and scarely needing the revision crib-sheet. "You don't need to be here 24/7 now. It's all legal for me to live without an adult guardian. I will manage, fine. Go spend the summer with your family. Tom is planning to move in anyway, so I won't be alone." Alex smiled, "I'm going to get a nice normal job to get by and save up to come visit after Christmas." The sixteen year old did not add that he was planning in renting out Ian's room and the guest room to supplement his income, nor the fact Tom was going to spend the summer in Italy

Jack sniffed, trying her best not to cry, sad and happy at the same time, because the boy she had raised for nearly a decade knew her so well. "You are the best friend a girl could have. Thank you."

Alex had called in one of several favours owed by Joe Byrne, securing a job too good to turn down with the State Department for Jack when she got back stateside. "I love you Jack and I know you discussed going home with Ian before he kiboshed that by dying on the job. Your life had been on hold because of the Bank and their games. I have will stick to my goals. Not much downtime guaranteed to shape up and get straight As for medical school. Crawley owes me big time and will fight my corner." His fellow prisoner now a a healthy fear of the weapon he had helped to hone. Bone chilling terror was a best motivator in the Great Game when playing by the rules got you in an early grave.

Jack was thinking of her list for packing and getting a courier organised for all her other belongings. "You better get a move on, your therapy session is in 40 minutes. Remember to actually talk to the guy and not about the weather or cricket. Avoidance and denial get you nowhere."

Alex nodded and did a good impression of being compliant, knowing his sister from another mother had been seeing the same guy since surviving the Grimaldi brother's hospitality. "Yeah, start with Ian and Blunt." The teen paused and then added "and the can of worms that is Yassen Gregorovich." That got him a teary hug from his girl Friday, who had been harping on for weeks about the need to be open and honest with the shrink. "You know Tom still does not believe me when I tell him we are opposites on the Kinsey scale." Alex was definitely pansexual with no actual desire for dating never mind a relationship. Trust in strangers was something he had lost along the way and friends he could rely on were counted in single figures. "He thought it was a joke when I told him Not to fix me up with a date." Anyone in his personal space was an anathema thanks to Julius and Razim. "My list of things to talk about with Dr Cheerful, keeps getting longer and longer."

...

From Trevor's window on the second floor of his Harley Street Practice, Alex looked down on his bike. Not a sleek custom model racing bike Like Ian had bought him for going to secondary school, but a recovered high street hybrid bought from the police. The blond young man turned to face the seated therapist, his face emotionless and his arms crossed.

It had been four minutes into his allotted hour and only greeting had been spoken so far. The teenager sighed, "if it were possible I'd put a taboo on my past and never speak of it again. Jack has begged me to be open and honest. So, to start. Everything boils down to my lying, two faced bastard of an uncle. The late and not so great Ian Rider. I never grieved for Ian. No seven stages of grief for me, just anger and betrayal." Moving with catlike grace, Alex sat on the sofa and face the man taking notes and saying little, he got paid whether his patient's spoke or stayed mute. "Lies. My life is based on them. Dad lied to mum, about his job, to his employers, both MI6 and SCORPIA. Ash lied to everyone. Ian lied to me and Jack. Blunt threatened and treated me like a mushroom. Ditto Jones, Crawley and every other agency I've dealt with. In all this, one person never lied, fully or by omission. Yassen Gregorovich killed Ian. Threatened me, yes. He wanted me to go back to school and leave this world behind. Wanted me to be a kid." With his head in his hands, Alex remembered the first time he saw Cossack and his impression of a fit bloke with the body of a dancer. He smiled and felt like laughing and crying at the same time. "I saw him for the first time in Cornwall, he killed someone for dropping a crate. Tall, blond, lithe and so fucking hot. I realised at that moment I was so fucking hard for the bad guy, it sent me into the monumental cycle of denial. I only told Jack at Christmas, that I not only batted for the other team, that I had a monumental crush on a murderer. She was totally cool that teenage hormones mean your brain is no part of attraction. My BFF, Tom, does not believe me now when I tell him I need a not so nice guy to date, because my phase of pretending to be head over heals for Sabina left a lasting impression. I'm not camp, not into shopping or musical theatre. Though Ian did a damn good job of stamping out any unwanted traits from me as a kid. He failed on a couple of indicators, because I like ABBA and ballet. So, the prom next week, I will on,y attend with a same gender date; just to play tonsil hockey for all to be fully aware that I'm not in denial about my sexuality anymore. Only problem is getting someone to date. The last guy I liked was a total psycho."

Trevor Matthews put down is pen and tried to get his head around this kid actually opening up about his wants and desires in complete contradiction to his psych profile. "You have stated you were attracted to a man a lot older than you. You are more mature and with few connections than your year group at school. I would suggest broadening your social circle. Team sports, a job, volunteering to meet people, friends first and then date. A weeks notice until prom is a tall order unless you go with your friends or trust them to organise a blind date. Tell Tom, maybe with Jack's help. Are you worried you'll loose his friendship by coming out?"

"No, he's too cool to be an asshat like that. Though it's weird. He's fully aware I think his brother is dreamy. Before you make any suggestions, I can't ask Jerry to the Prom, he's very straight and lives in Naples."

...

Alex arrived home at noon, entering the kitchen to find a pensive looking Jack sat nursing a coffee in her huge pink Starbucks mug. "You have official letters. Do you want the bad news first"

There on the counter were three envelopes addressed to The guardian of Mr Alexander John Rider. "What's rained on my parade then?"

"Sixth Form at Brookland and Chelsea College are a bust." Jack then frowned, "Some weird school called AFC Harrogate has offered you a place though. Must be some boarding school scholarship?"

Alex laughed "no it's military school for the British Army. Like I want to become a squaddie!" Too close to being a mini-me John "Hunter" Rider. "I'll ring around Colleges in Kingston, Clapham, Barnes, Richmond, Twickenham, Ealing and Hammersmith first. Worst comes to the worst I can go the self study route. I'd fail any medical for the army anyway." Not a trick from Liverpool Street, but More like the bastard headmaster Bray had thought a stint in Her Majesty's Armed Forces would straighten him out. Alex's loose plans for a laugh at the school prom just got bumped up to full on psychological warfare.