Thank you for everybody who reviewed (all the two people). You are sooo lovely. :D For everybody else: they didn't die in the process, you can risk writing some words.

Answering the questions: although the story is very slow and sneaking at snail-pace, everything will happen and every little step will be written carefully...:D I know you long for some action though and I hope you can wait till the next chapter... It will have much more events in it, I promise. Ohh, and btw... you know I'm not Anthony Horowitz, right?

Er, I officially disclaim every right... Yep.

I tried, I truly tried to put a hand on Crocodile Tears, but I must admit I live in a country in which the book isn't brought in (I mean.. in on the borders... no copy is available) and in which an official translation takes over half a year. Otherwise, the English version is insanely expensive to just buy it on Internet. Yeah. I'm stuck, and I suck. Whichever is actually right.

Warning: SASCH

Chapter 8 – Merely more than a child

"You are going to die... slowly, very slowly… we will hollow… painful unfortunately, but … to know we… being serious… always are… stupid to come… still I doubt you… realized… your decision… big mistake you have... after your… lost your vision, I… if you talk… not… from the overture and… some serious… if you ask… take the deal… you won't… good… remaining…" There was a loud crack audible – another man entered the room.

"Master... we can't… woman, she's… the trails… find the…"

"… on the … this one… taken to the airport… after… could get the… anybody asks… the Spanish man… the boot with the explosives… make sure you-"

Alex sighed irritated. The man who had just pushed him aside "randomly" – brunette young man with a weird little beard – stepped in front of him in the row, looking back with a mocking glint in his eyes clearly trying to attract his aggression on him so that the he would have a reason to beat the disturbing youth up. Alex grinned back at him – use the most unexpected reaction to get them off guard, Ian Rider would have told –, secretly gritting his teeth.

The interaction had got him out of the balance and now he fully lost the train of thought as the Russian jabber continued in his headphones hidden behind his too-long hair. He didn't waste his time for a curse, hurriedly tried to get back to the half-numb state he had been in, reacting instinctively and absentmindedly on the surroundings, his world narrowing to the caught words concentrating only on the quiet whispering in his ears.

The record was willingly very bad of a quality, the people talking on it speaking in the worst manner he had ever heard. The device broke and reconnected, then crackled a bit and the line broke again… Alex could tell the major issue, though he knew he was not going to remember everything perfectly to the time it would be asked from him – not without the rush of adrenaline, the knowledge in his cells he was in danger, the always the same feeling no matter how many times he experienced it - which had rather turned from the 'I'm in danger' meaning to an 'I'm on a mission' sort recently.

He took his tray at last, murmuring something as thanks and sat down to their dining table. He prayed Eagle would be smarter than ask his stupid question again, now, when it would be the worst timing, but he knew the neutral answer he had given him yesterday wasn't even close satisfying him.

He thought of his face if he had given in on the unarmed form fight lesson(i) which would have meant to take his T-shirt off and fight with bare chest as the soldiers did. The last bullets the Scorpia assassin had intended to kill him with only the day before yesterday, didn't do any serious harm through the bullet-proof vest, only a few blue and purple – lately turning trendy greenish, yellowish and brownish – bruises, covering his abdomen full length. The bullet scar, from the first attempt remained in all its late glory, though the several cuts, burns, scars and bruises made up a very close contest.

The unarmed form fight, or as they called, the UFF, was a very natural part of a SAS soldier's life at the camp. After the full training, this was the one keeping them in shape and they could get better in defending themselves without the weapons with which they were all too familiar. It was a mix of material arts mainly containing the most useful elements from karate to wrestling.

He found himself numbly eating his meal, but he wasn't able to recall how he had got to the table, neither sitting down. The Russian speech continued and he felt his head would explode. It was dangerous, paying so little conscious attention to reality while on an enemy territory (he couldn't risk relieving his secrets to the soldiers). This was the moment when Eagle felt the time had come for an investigation.

"So. What's wrong with UFF? It sure as hell is boring, but you did do much harder things last time and now you pissed the Sergeant so off he would give you a life time punishment now."

"It's not his function to give me punishment." He answered bluntly, trying to keep up with the strain of the muffled conversation trailing in his head, knowing at the same time he had to sacrifice the outcome of the exercise for the sake of his security. The brunette man frowned, exchanging uncomprehending glances with his mates.

"Then who is the one giving you punishment – or orders if we are here."

"He doesn't get orders, Eagle, he's merely more than a child." Snake argued. Alex pondered about how old he may seem in their eyes, but didn't ask – they would ask back for his age and he didn't like lying without a good reason.

"But sure, he gets some sort of guidance as what he should do, doesn't he?" The boy in question considered his briefing on the past missions. Yes, of course he had been told what he should do. Alex felt a bit uncomfortable as they all fixed their gazes on him; he had to keep himself from shifting. His mind wandered around to make up something believable.

"From somebody the person who sent me here had signed to do it." He answered cautiously. It wasn't a lie; he had signed Grant to be his boss and give him orders, in a distorted way. The men looked at each other at his cryptic answer and as he would have been able to foretell it, Eagle didn't let the issue be dropped.

"And who is the person who sent you here?"

Ok, it was time to change tactics.

"It's not your business." He added a bit of coldness to his tone, the sharp edge recognisable enough to push back any further investigation – too bad Eagle was a full trained SAS soldier.

"But-" He was interrupted by Wolf.

"He said it was not your business."

"But-" Wolf's face made him fall silent. Giving them a last glare, the man turned away, practising his evil killing look on his dish after this. K Unit stared at him with open mouths in unison, astounded at his behaviour. Alex silently fixated his own gaze on a far point at another wall of the dining barrack. He could understand why Wolf had done what he had done, but it didn't make the sudden feeling overwhelming him better.

The soldiers tried to figure something out of the change in their former relationship, but the two kept their secrets far from their faces. Wolf was trying to defend his unit, this was clear. The meal tasted ash in his mouth as he thought of the reason; he didn't even know anything for sure. He may have had guesses, but Wolf didn't know anything about his missions or how he had killed people before.

It had hurt him more than he had thought it to be possible. The simple fact that a bare guess could give so much of mistrust and… and something else he could put into words. It slipped his finger every time he tried to catch it, but at the same time it hurt him. Weird. He suddenly felt himself excluded from the civil world, from normality, very-very alone. Not only because of his age the line of his work, it had made him grow up – very soon but he had grown up - and become more mature than he had thought he would ever be.

It might have been loneliness – the way the realization bolted through him in a sudden: even soldiers chose it better to stay away from him. He was not going to have friends or anybody close to him. He was going to live his life alone. It had been a mercy of God he had found Rosalie. Her sight calmed him down and comforted him, just like every other time he had felt abnormal, a lonely watcher from the other side of a window.

He recalled her image, the same images keeping him alive in a month of inhuman torture and captivate. The sight he would have woken up every morning: her rosy hair covering the pillow and his bare chest. Her eyes as she told him she trusted him – the spy variation of 'I love you more than anything else on earth'. The warm sense as her body cuddled up to his under the quilt, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Rosalie was a gift of the gods.

They headed out of the building towards another in which they had had their lesson offering a bit of variety with a main theme of defusing bombs. It was something they rather neglected in Israel, only learning the most basic methods. This day appeared to pass faster and more useful than yesterday as their next sit was 'new' as well: computer and hacking skills. They hadn't needed it much in the past, but it could come handy someday.

He allowed her to go ahead at the door and her hip 'accidentally' crushed against his body, her hand brushing him. He felt goose bumps rising on his arm and he had to swallow hard. Otherwise the lesson itself was interesting. 'Would have been more interesting, had he been able to actually concentrate. He was so going to punish her for this.

He engraved the function of the different wires on his memory, as well as the effect of the explosives (making a mental note to ask his MI6 provided teacher to tell some about preparing some house-made ones), the radius, the destruction, the noise the explosion caused, the time they needed, the structure most ideal.

Their teacher was a skinny, always nervous-looking little man, with large eyes and a large bald spot on the top of his head. He spoke quickly and the men leant forward not to miss a word he said in his pitchy voice. If his mind hadn't been wandering on other things, he would have even enjoyed the lesson.

In the second part they could try and defuse a bomb themselves and watch the once really dangerous ones which had been made to kill real people. The devices looked menacingly, even in their "deaths", and Alex honestly hoped he would not run into such cute thing for a very long time.

He could have guessed he was not going to be able to fully enjoy his day although he would really have liked learning something new about electronics. Of course, Mi6 had sensed the momentary lack of 'torture' and organized them the appointments to this time. He couldn't blame them: he was the one discovering the dark gaps in his file which was brought by Mrs. Jones yesterday.

Mossad hadn't transferred their files to the British, so their time in Israel was nearly entirely unknown, therefore Alex phoned the agency. Grant was apparently keeping his promise as for his surprise Alex was informed by the secretary to wait a bit, and then the next moment he found himself talking to deputy head himself. Alex hadn't been sure why he had called in the first place, but the man had been grateful and polite promising to take care of the problem and thanking him.

A soldier showed them their way to the office where usually the officers and the few civilians worked. The emotionless Mrs. Jones was waiting for them in a room he supposed to be the Colonel's otherwise. A young looking brunette woman was standing there besides her; she leant against the wall like a statue. She was apparently "special operator" as well, her expressions holding the same empty mask that had slipped on his face the moment he entered the room.

Hers was forced though and Alex could see from the way she was standing she wasn't too experienced, her body stiff and uncomfortable in contrary the way a proof would have – the way the arriving couple had – easily, with light limbs, gracefully and calmly moving and examining the surround. The Colonel was half sitting on the side of his desk, visibly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Tulip." He flashed a smile at the woman and her sour face reflected back some warmth. He pondered, not the first time, how she had lost her kids.

"Cub, Ama." So she didn't trust the Colonel enough to tell him their true names. Interesting. "Ms. Lynn will register everything you say and update your files." She didn't offer them seats – they would have done that already, had they wanted to. At MI6, business was the first in the row. "You will get a copy of it, of course."

"Right." Rose replied lightly.

"I guess we can start it immediately then. Ms. Lynn?" The brunette younger nodded and Alex observed her hand was slightly trembling. She wasn't going to serve MI6 very long.

"Aye." She swallowed while the Colonel left. As soon as the door closed behind his back she opened her notebook. The room was silent for some minutes until the woman finally found what she had been searching for. After she finished, she looked up. "Name?"

To be continued…

Please, tell me I did manage to fool some of you with that talk at the beginning...:P