Ok hi. So a few things- I'm gonna be honest i cant remember if the man in Brecon Beacons is called the Sergeant or what but that is what he will be called, haha. Ok soo enjoy! if you have any questions or something doesn't make sense i probably made a mistake so feel free to tell me! thanks, and remember to review ! :)

March 6th, 23:15

Alex sat in the backseat of the vehicle, staring wanly at the back of two agents' heads.

The suitcase was on the seat next to him; he hadn't brought much. Hadn't had space to. It was small, and all Alex had managed to fit were his favorite combat boots, a few pictures of Jack and Tom, sweat pants, a couple shirts, and a pistol and bullets. The gun wasn't loaded, obviously, and Alex hoped he wouldn't need it. The thought came dryly. Alex didn't even feel secure putting his life in the hands of trained soldiers. He probably should have been more concerned about that than he was.

Their arrival came quickly, and as the car unevenly trekked across the gravel, a dull sense of uncomfortable anxiety built up in his chest. Alex reluctantly dragged the suitcase out of the car. The wheels nicked on the rocks and twigs on the ground, and he wished Blunt had at least provided him with a duffel.

The Sergeant's office was close- a fact Alex was very grateful for. Alex tugged the suitcase up the metal staircase and into the office. The Sergeant didn't stand upon his entry, but nodded at him and gestured to a chair. Alex seated himself quietly. The Sergeant's eyes followed his movements, almost like he was searching for something specific.

"Is there something I can help you find?" Alex quipped, momentarily forgetting where he was. He'd been gawked at and ogled by enough adults to safely say that a snide comment here or there wasn't unexpected. But, in the Sergeant's eyes, Alex was an unwelcome guest- a kid to babysit. Even thinking it nearly made Alex cringe. Quickly, he added, "Sir."

"Cub." The Sergeant spoke gruffly. He didn't seem offended or angry- more like, he seemed hesitant. Alex could tell he was looking for the right words to use. Seemingly frustrated with stepping around broken glass, he threw his hands up. "Damn if I'm going to speak to my own soldier like a careful mum. Cub, when your little organization said they were givin' you back to me, I couldn't have said no fast enough. They insisted, and I asked for a damn good reason to put you -a seventeen year old boy- in with my men. I didn't think they could, but they gave me one."

The man stopped speaking for a moment, observing Alex again. Alex almost found it amusing that the man couldn't multitask like he'd learned to do- observing and acting at once. The man seemed to be waiting for him to speak. "Um, what was that, sir?"

The Sergeant didn't move immediately, but when he did, Alex almost wished he hadn't.

A thick file was slapped onto the desk in front of him. The front was blank. When the Sergeant flipped open the first page, Alex winced. A picture of him was taped to the page. He had been unaware of the picture's existence- in it, his face was turned to the side, eyes distant as if lost in thought. He could only just tell that his shirt was that of Brookland's uniform- he'd probably just gotten out of school. He looked visibly younger than the Alex sitting in front of the Sergeant now. Printed next to the picture in thick, black lettering was his name.

"I still didn't believe this." The Sergeant explained brusquely. "But they-" the man dragged his hand across his face and sighed. "Shit, Rider, they had videos."

Underneath the confusion and panic that was making a home in Alex's mind, Alex noted how desperate Blunt was to send him here.

"They showed you videos," Alex repeated, "and a file." He almost couldn't believe his ears.

The Sergeant didn't answer, but nodded. He seemed relieved to finally tell someone- a man of his word, Alex thought, Blunt and Jones must've made it clear that this was classified information.

"What I'm trying to say," the man went on, "is that you are an SAS soldier here, first and foremost. You follow my orders, and those of your Unit's leader. I'm not gonna lie to you; I wish I could unread that file, unwatch those videos. I wish you weren't who you are, but you are who you are, so we've just got to work with it. Understood, soldier?"

Alex thought that underneath the callous speech, he could pick out a meager acknowledgement of Alex's skills, of what he'd been through. Validation of his skills. His experience.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." Alex stood and saw himself out, dragging the suitcase with him.

March 6, 23:37

The cabin was just about as he remembered it. A few beds and not much in between. He'd have to find something to satisfy his own entertainment needs, but that had never been too difficult before. The unit had all gone to sleep, and Alex kept quiet as he slid his suitcase underneath the bed and slid onto it. His thoughts raced and his body ached and he wanted to be at home and he wanted to be in his bed, he wanted to wake up to a high voice and the smell of slightly burnt pancakes-

"Stop." Alex breathed. It'd been barely audible. His breathing had gone uneven and his eyes felt hot. He pressed his palms to his eyes and rolled onto his side. He needed to forget about that. He needed to stop thinking about it. He needed to separate himself from it.

Jack was gone. Had been, for about six months. He'd been living alone, under MI6's permission. Sabina and her family had offered, but he'd never impose- never endanger them like that. He knew how threatening his mere existence could be. He also had to keep the house. It wasn't optional- emotionally, he wasn't ready to let someone else create memories, let someone else occupy the space that should have been his. Yet another chip MI6 held over him- Alex's compliance for his house. If he refused, they'd sell the house and send him to the orphanage, even if only for a year. He'd be homeless just after, and with his high school credits, he'd be wrecked. He was trapped.

Instead of dwelling on it any longer, he kicked off his shoes and forced himself to get underneath the stiff covers. He pressed his face into his pillow, and in a matter of minutes, he dozed off.

March 7, 6:30

Alex awoke to the sound of hurried shuffling. He glanced around the cabin groggily, eyes focusing gradually. He sat up in the bed and stifled a yawn. Eagle and Wolf were tugging on their boots while arguing, and Snake waited patiently by the door, watching them bicker in amusement.

"Dammit, Eagle, what the hell don't you understand about 'wake us up at six'?" Wolf growled, struggling with his tangled shoelaces.

"Sorry, Wolf, my man," Eagle replied cheerily, "but you know I'm a heavy sleeper. Put Snake on breakfast duty- he wakes at every little sound!"

"I won't do it every day, Eagle," Snake chipped in lightly. "Pull your weight."

"Snake, buddy, come on. Take one for the team?" Eagle pleaded with him.

"No."

Eagle mock-gasped.

It alarmed Alex, the friendly air of their conversation. They were mostly turned away from him; they'd probably forgotten he was there.

The blond slid out of bed and stretched, barefoot. His joints popped. Alex had always been pretty fond of mornings. Waking up was always easy.

"Cub!" Eagle broke off whatever Wolf was about to say, grinning. Alex suspected he was more happy about the fact that a new distraction had presented itself.

Alex nodded his head at Eagle once, not quite sure how to go about acting. Did they still hate him? Alex had no problem if they did, but he wanted to know for the sake of his own pride- no need for him to make a friendly fool of himself only to find out they still held childish grudges.

"Sleep well?" Snake asked from the door, eyeing him with a strange expression.

Alex nodded again. He held Snake's gaze before turning his eyes away. They seemed friendly enough so far.

"Enough formalities- who's up for some grub?" Eagle stood and marched out the door, Snake following close behind. Panther, who had been shrugging on a jacket near the back of the room, mumbled hello to Alex and left.

Wolf glanced at Alex. The mere sight of the blond seemed to strike a chord. Wolf's jaw clenched and he looked away, breathing through his nose. The man stood and left briskly and silently.

Alex figured he couldn't expect much from Wolf- they'd mostly settled their differences. And by settled their differences, Alex meant Wolf had seen what he could do at Point Blanc, and if he didn't realize that Alex wasn't doing kiddy work, then Alex didn't quite know what he'd do.

He stood, listening to the way the bed creaked and the floorboards moaned and the feint chatter from passing soldiers outside. His senses had become more acute lately, he'd noticed. He'd been on several missions since his second run in with Scorpia. It was an ordeal he'd rather not remember. The entire thing had left an emotional scar on him. He didn't want to relive any of it, and yet he found himself back in the chair, tied and exhausted. He found himself watching Jack driving away in the Land Rover. Often, he'd wake in the middle of the night, scream tearing at his lips the way it did back in the fort in the Sahara. He didn't want to. Desperately, he didn't want to. Didn't want to feel or remember. Didn't want to remember Mrs. Jones telling him that Blunt's original plan was to retire, but he had decided to stay on the job a while longer.

Didn't want to remember the way she had the audacity to turn away before telling him that the reason Jack had died and the reason a shooting occurred at Alex's school and the reason for Tom's injury was Blunt. It was all Blunt.

A pang in Alex's head brought him back to reality, and he cringed, palming his eye. He often got headaches when he thought of the misfortune that had become his life. Not to play the role of the clichéd teenager, or anything.