Dear Valentin

I hope you and all in deepest darkest Siberia are well.

My loss of appetite, peakiness and persistent cough have been diagnosed as Tuberculosis. Doctor Ivan failed to diagnose me last month, but I must have caught it playing backgammon in the mess. Apart from that, my arm is mending well. My bones fixed with metal plates. I've been on strict bed rest, but the hospital here is nice. Food is passable, mostly. Although these Americans are obsessed with Jello.

I have written to Dimitry again, but he probably has chucked the letter out unread. I can tell you that we fell out because I told him I was gay as in homosexual as in a disgusting pervert, his words. That's why I tried to kill myself at school.

So, thanks for trying to set me straight, and goodbye.

Please send me my general school certificate via the Langley or the US Embassy. I hope to be able to finish higher schooling, but I have the feeling I'm going to be traded back to Blunt and that will not end well.

Your disobedient former ward, Alex.

His letter to Dimitry had merely said, 'Your godfather is all yours as I've moved West again, Alex'.

He paused wondering what to write to Kolya and decided not to bother the man. For all the time they spent together, Alex was sure he had just been a nice warm, wet mouth for the man to stick his dick. It had been a diversion in the bleak, cold and dark winter months, as the petty officer had been one of the few to actually talk to the Colonel's weird and disturbed ward. Alex looked at the scars on his inner arm, small indentations from self inflicted bites. He smiled as he clearly remembered the sensation of biting down hard, pain blooming into agony and he could almost taste the sourness of blood on his tongue. He looked out at the blue skies and the signs of heat haze in the restricted view he had of the base compound. The room was slightly too cool from the air conditioning and he instinctively snuggled down back under his bedding. He had schooled his desires to self inflict pain. However, he wanted to smoke so badly. He wondered what American cigarettes were like, nothing like the Russian tobacco he was used to. No, homemade vodka here either. It was a wonder he had not gone blind from drinking that moonshine. The doctor came in and commented "You look a bit better today. Need anything from the vending machines?"

"What I want I'm sure you won't allow me considering my age and the fact I'm in hospital." Alex smiled ruefully at his own bad habits.

"Try me." The doctor asked as he looked at the teenager with the wary eyes of someone who had seen too much.

"Cigarettes? Vodka? I'll blow you as I've got nothing else to trade. I'm quite good, got a lot of practice in Russia. I get that you will refuse because of your wedding ring on your finger, medical ethics and the bullshit of Don't Ask Don't Tell."

The doctor had served in Africa, Iraq and Central America and had seen what children had been reduced to in order to survive. "Medically, its a no to all three requests. As a father myself, you are too young for that sort of thing and considering the high incidence of HIV in Russia, extremely lucky not to have any STDs from being sexually active or from casual drug use. Did you have multiple partners?"

"No, just Kolya. He preferred to fuck a fifteen year old virgin than high risk of getting the clap at the local brothel." Alex had often wondered how many green recruits had shared that man's bed as they lost their virginity. He had always refused to go all the way, through self preservation, not any ideals or modesty. One thing held in reserve to trade if things got even more dire. "I'm sorry but it would need to be one hell of a trade if you want my virgin ass."

"Saving yourself for love?"

"No, love is not on the cards. I'm too much of a loner, don't trust easily and I'm shit at making friends." Very good at losing then, was the truth Alex did not vocalise. "Kolya was a bastard and a player, we traded nothing more. Those are the type of people I get. Quid Quo Pro, no false promises, nothing to lose or die for. Heroics and trying to do the decent thing got me up shit creek without a paddle. I look at my scars and remind myself of that every day." Alex frowned as his considered his return to operations. "I was told to be upfront and honest about everything. I'm fucking terrified that I'm about to set shafted again. I was pretty much blackmailed and threatened into all this and I actually prefer the reality of whoring myself to the alternative of being MI6's bitch. I go back to London and those cunts will own me for now and evermore. The only escape is in a box. My parents and uncle all died before they reached 40. I started young, so I might make it to 25."

The doctor sighed, knowing the spooks had made sure all the staff here were tied into National Security protocols, but he for one would make his opinion known as this kid's clinician. "You are medically unfit, physiologically and psychologically for any operations or future military service. TB lesions on your lungs are permanent. It'll be 12 months of decent food, rest and recuperation for you young man just to get fit and well and that is part of your medical notes for all to see. No school until September as well. Might as well give your arm enough time to heal fully. Most importantly you need to understand that you have survived a series of high stress situations and need to reacclimatise to normal life and getting you a family and back interacting with teenagers is important. So, seeing a psychologist is also highly recommended. Group therapy will prove to you that you are not alone. My advice is to keep doing what your doing, talk and let everyone be fully aware that you are not A-OK and definitely a long way from well. Luckily being highly infectious with a life threatening condition tends to help your cause." The doctor then handed over his mobile phone to the patient. "So, I think I need to go get us both cokes. I'll be back in 10 minutes or so."

As the doctor left the phone rang. Alex answered with a very unsure "Hello?"

"Hi, Alex, its Joe Canterbury from Psycho Clone Academy. I hear Ivanov's been a complete loser. How do you fancy living in DC with my completely disfunctional family rather than return to spying?"

…..

Mimi Canterbury sat with her husband with their lawyer in the offices of the Army Fostering and Adoption Service. Three days ago, her husband had come to her suggesting they adopt the boy MI6 agent who had freed their son two years previously. The career politician had read the CIA file and had agreed on the spot to help the orphan and to out manoeuvre those who would continue to use this child. In the lawyer's briefcase were two files, both carefully put together by the FSB and the CIA. Chuck Canterbury had spoken to Alexandrov about shafting Blunt's attempt to regain control of his teen spy. The translated copy of Alexei Sarov's will now stated the Canterbury's, old friends of Alex, were the late General's preferred placement for his adopted son. The other file contained Russian adoption papers filed two days ago in Vladivostok, giving the couple full parental rights to the orphaned son of the Russian general. The American had been given his details by Byrne and used his son's connection to Alex and Dimitry Ivanov. He and his wife's marriage was stronger and they had mended their relationship with their own son with over a years hard work. Alex now needed family and help to rest and just be a teenager.

"Hi, Laura." Mimi smiled at Adoption Specialist and gripped her husband's hand tightly at this slight of hand. "So, here are copies of the paperwork filed last year with the Russian Authorities. It has taken 10 months for this to clear their system. I hope we can collect Alex from hospital ASAP, as the State department has already cleared his visa." The Senator had made a phone call to the first lady to clear that obstacle. She was a Washington professional and could wheel and deal with the wiliest of liars and double dealers. Joe had spoken to Alex yesterday and got a green light with a little persuasion.

…

Alex dressed in what were Joe's castoffs. The worn jeans, t-shirt and hoody were matched with new boxers, socks and Converse All Stars. He looked like a real teenager for the first time in two years. Joe Canterbury's dad was here in full uniform, looking impressive and they were flying to Germany, then on to America. It was the promise of home, even if Joe stated his mom was a machiavellian control freak and his dad a dictator. Chuck had introduced himself last night and thanked Alex profusely for saving Joe's life. "We owe you, kid. You'll soon find out no one picks a fight with Mimi and gets off unscathed. She is tenacious and nothing is beyond her. That fella Blunt is in for a surprise, because no shit sticks to Ms. Miriam Graylow. I fell in love with her in High School, she was class president and worked her way through college, then Harvard Law School. Joe takes after her in so many ways. Its not easy living with them, but we are 110% behind supporting you while you recover and decide what to do. No expectations from us, just that you are whole and happy. Mimi can't wait to take you back to Harrisburg and to met her strange and large bohemian family. Summer on her family farm will see you spoiled and eat wholesome home grown food. Her mom's peach pie is the best. They even make their own ice cream."

The American looked at this pale, skinny kid who looked every inch the poor, ill orphan he was. Strangely tongue tied and had had spoken more on the phone yesterday. "Your room will be sorted by the time we get home. You have the whole summer to decide on home school or High School. No military school I promise. We threaten Joe, but its an empty threat. So, Alex, you are part of the Graylow-Canterbury family now, God help you. We can talk more during our flight. I have photos and I'll give you the lowdown of all things Joe since he came home from France. The doc has given me a full briefing, so no 'I'm fine' but I assume you'll just grunt at me like Joe does. My mom was a nurse and she'll give me pointers about everything. So, lets get going. This time tomorrow we'll be landing stateside and our gamble to outsmart those limey spooks will have worked."