In a whirlwind of five days in America, Alex had visited the family home in York County, Pennsylvania to met and greet his new immediate family including the scary, forthright and stern Grandma Canterbury and the warm and welcoming Fran and Bill Graylow. The worst bit of the weekend had been compulsory Church, when the Pastor had politely quizzed the new member of his congregation on his religion, assuming he'd been brought up Russian Orthodox, and been quite put out when Alex explained he was an atheist and that his late father had been a committed Marxist of the Stalinist variety. Church was one thing he'd have to endure as he had no illusions to faith or an afterlife. An hour or so of boredom a week was not so bad. Overall, the reality of his new American family had been OK, Alex was surprised by the beginnings of trust. Small steps towards a better life. His new mother had inner steel and relished a good fight considering she was a Democrat elected and re-elected in a formerly Republican stronghold.

The strangest bit of the weekend away had been sharing a room with Joe at the Graylow Farm. He was the first to admit he was the complete opposite of the Canterbury's real son. Joe spent most of the night catnapping between checking his phone, as there was no internet there. Alex was used to strict curfews, work regimes and getting up at dawn for rigorous PT.

After days of smiling and being polite, the teenager was glad to be back in Georgetown in his own room. He lay in bed and pondered his temporary cosmetic plate, crafted to mask his two missing teeth, on the bedside table. In two weeks he'd be in for the real torture of getting two ceramic and metal permanent replacements screwed into his jaw. He hated the thought of that as check-ups were bad enough. Tomorrow life was returning to normal, well normal for the Canterbury's, with full time working mom and dad and Joe going back to school. Alex would be at home with Connie the sarcastic and world weary Cuban born housekeeper. The old crone was a character who smoked on the back step, swore in Spanish under her breath and had practically ordered Alex to do as he was told, to eat his meals and to rest properly. The woman had detailed instructions including a timetable of medication, lists from the nutritionist to follow and the demeanour of a nanny trained by the SAS and used to dealing with naughty boys who did not take their medicine nor eat their greens. Joe had an uneasy truce with the hired help as she always assumed he was up to something. Alex had the feeling both his new mom and dad and Ms. Valdez expected him to abscond or get into trouble. Did they not get that he had nowhere left to go and this was better than any alternative. Here he was safe from Blunt and Byrne. With that not so reassuring thought, the young man turned to face the wall and try to will himself to sleep.

Alex woke to the sounds of his family getting ready for their first normal day back at school and work, but he stayed in bed until all had left; pretending to still be asleep. At 8:30 Connie knocked on his door and ordered him to get his butt downstairs for his breakfast as she needed to go grocery shopping.

The woman already had her coat on and ordered "Eat your oatmeal and fruit, drink your milk and take your meds. I'll be back around 11:30."

"Yes ma'am." Alex stood to attention, snapping his heels and giving a perfect salute as taught in Russia.

His actions caused the woman to chuckle as she left.

He ate leisurely and then cleared up. He then went back to his room to work on his real life action plan. How to make the FSB, the CIA and MI6 not just keep their distance but bin any intention for future employment? Number One was he wanted to get fit and well. He was well aware he needed his head shrinking after getting blackmailed and threatened by every adult who crossed his path for two years. He wanted to enact Yassen's game plan, to get out of the shadows and not be a fucked-up spook now or ever. What did agencies hate? Outright treason was out and going freelance was also a no no. In today's climate of zero tolerance on terrorists, Alex would get a one way trip to Guantanamo if he tried to play the game not on their terms. So, he had to be subtle. Ian had taught him to be adaptable, now he had to adapt to be unemployable by the security services. Having TB meant he was a medical fail for the armed services, which was a start. One thing, he did not want to be classed as insane or mentally unstable. He had had enough of psychiatric clinics to last a lifetime. What qualities meant you were suspect but not an outright threat. Being openly out and proud was a no-no, he had fluid sexuality, though girls were a complete unknown really as he hadn't been interested at Brookland and he had had no opportunity in Russia to date. Being homosexual was not enough, when western society was moving toward acceptance. He would also need to be a political or social activist. Follow in Joe's footsteps, though Greenpeace was not his thing. Civil rights was though. He would read up on Amnesty International. He had the credentials for that change of direction. Alex grinned to himself as he fleshed out his game plan for his future.

…

At 3, Joe arrived home with two friends. The group raided the fridge for milk and demolished a pack of cookies when Frances enquired "Do we get to meet your sick new brother then?"

"Sure, lets go wake him up. Lucky bastard has been in bed all day."

Alex had not been asleep, but he was reading a book on American history by the window. People watching was more interesting than the names and dates. He had noted his neighbours schedules and idiosyncrasies. Joe knocked and entered. "Cool, you're awake. Meet Frances and Hayley. Ladies, this is Sasha." Joe keeping with the legend of his new brother as the General Sarov's son, not Alex Rider nor Alex Friend.

…..

That night, after the olds were in bed, Alex snuck upstairs to share his life plan with Joe. With the softest of knocks, his brother opened his door with a grin. "Welcome to the real world, spy boy."

As the pair sat and pondered their new dynamic, Joe was 110% behind a future devoid of spy agencies and their manipulations. "My life plan is to expose the lies, to ensure transparency and justice. We know the truth that the privileged few and the governments have stacked the deck in their favour. I agree, you can't be overt in your disaffection. No one would blame you for becoming a champion for children rights and the rights of political prisoners, considering." The teenager took a long drink from his bottle of water. "Completely agree with the no drugs, drinking only in acceptable social situations, no outright felonies and misdemeanours. God, we are going to be a pair of little angels." Joe moved to hug Alex, "One bit of advice, hold off on outing yourself, as you are in counselling for sexual abuse. Take evaluation of your sexuality slow, because if some fab girl crosses your path, well don't deny yourself love and affection. I'm not being a downer or a hater, cause if a great guy catches your eye, go for it. Just no mafia or creepy assassin types, OK."

…

Alex flexed his fingers in an attempt to relieve the itching beneath his cast, as he woke from his slumber. He was still tired, even after sleeping for most of the two hour drive to Fort Lee. The outsider opened his eyes and observed Joe was reading his new issue of MacTech. He then asked "Are we there yet?"

Charles Canterbury had been answering the same question from Joe every ten minutes since they had left at 10, "Five minutes until the checkpoint, so you'll both be fed and watered soon. Have a good sleep, Sasha?"

Alex grinned thinking of demolishing his share the picnic as he was ravenous, "Good, I think. Was a talking Russian in my sleep again?"

Joe put down his magazine and answered "No, Spanish with an excellent Cuban accent. Something about Diving. Too technical for me. Depth and gas ratios. I can just about manage a snorkel."

Alex sighed, "Snorkeling's good in Cuba. Apart from the sharks, I have a thing about sharks now, so forget diving. Scared the bejeezus out of me."

"Right, Jaws is off the family viewing list then."

"Be serious, J, that shark was obviously plastic and so fake. Music was the best thing about that film and the focus pulling. Give me a zombie film any day."

"Jesus, you need educating! Zombie films are shit!" Joe exclaimed and then cringed as Mimi looked back annoyed at the swearing and the certainty of the loss of another dollar to the cussing jar.

The group picnic was an old tradition for army families, with a group from the Pentagon visiting as well for the home vs. visitors ball family game. Chuck knew Joe would not play, but then he asked Alex, sure his injury would count against getting picked to join in. "Wanna have a try at America's national sport?"

The rules were a mystery to Alex, but he could see it meant a lot to his new father, so he agreed to a hesitant nod, "I can probably have a go, might be a bit useless at catching anything."

"We can but try." The soldier happy to be taking part in the parent/child game.

Alex overheard the heated discussion between Charles and the team coach, "Thanks Chuck, with the Wilson's and the Hunter's not attending we can barely scrape a team together. Even so, your Russian boy has a broken arm and has never played baseball. We are so going to loose."

"He's ambidextrous and very sporty. He'll pick it up. Likes hunting and was rumoured to be at state championship level in biathlon. Keep him as reserve as he tires easily." Chuck smiled at Alex, who had eaten almost as much as Joe at lunch. Both of them loved Mimi's strawberry and rhubarb pie.

It was a close game in the end. All going to plan with Alex catching the ball twice and passing it with accuracy, stopping the home team from thinking he was a useless patsy. He had been a passable player at rounders back at Brookland Comprehensive, the closest English alternative to this much more complicated game. Here he faced a decent opponent and grimaced as he did not feel like running, sliding or ducking out of the way of a fast moving object aimed straight for his head.

The guy was grinning as Alex hit the dirt for the first attempt. He landed on the bat and grunted. Picking himself off he was aware of the hand signal having watched the previous two guys on the home plate. He did not concentrated on the pitcher, but he made a calculated guess on his next pitch. The bat and ball connected as the ball spun off high to the left, as he had swapped his grip. He started to walk not caring if he got caught out, the two other guys were running for all they were worth.

Alex strolled round the diamond and then handed over his helmet to Charles with a sigh "Too tired for anymore, sorry Dad."

The general put his hand on his newly adopted son's shoulder and beamed, "You played life you were born and bred here." Alex then smiled and then remembered that baseball was the national game in Cuba. He had seen kids playing it in Santiago two years ago, when his fake parents had been called Gardiner. Alex knew it was well known that his late father had been an exile in Cuba. They would now assume his son had grown up there, further distancing him from everything Rider. Alex Rider did not officially exist after getting burned by MI6. Here he was stuck pretending to be that bastard's son. The Canterbury's were not playing games, they had no agendas, he hopefully had a future here as their other official son. The sad fact Alex knew it could all go south tomorrow. He had to be zen and he had to make contingency plans. He also knew revenge was a dish best served cold. He had Blunt and Jones in his sights.