Ben Daniels could not believe it. The kid, Alex, Cub, was dead. Ben had been assured by Mrs Jones that Alex had a good foster placement and was getting all the therapy he needed. It looked like Cub had gone to California, gone off the deep end and given up. Starving himself then walking into the desert to die. After taking shit loads of pills to try and get over the pain of his guardian dying. 15. He was only 15. Ben re-read the police report and the notes the CIA had added. Ben left the office in a daze and went home.

Ben walked into his small flat in Tottenham. He did not bother to switch on the light, he just sat in his small sitting room and stared straight ahead trying to make sense of this complete and utter fuck up. MI6 had driven a teenager to kill himself in what was one of the most protracted, horrible ways possible. Alex had taken himself to hospital, begging for help to be dismissed as a delusional, self obsessed addict. He'd seen the one person who cared for him from the age of seven brutally murdered, and everyone assumed he was a stupid, attention seeking kid. Ben knew PTSD took many forms, Alex's symptoms just sounded like an extreme case. The plans to commit Alex to mental care had been too little too late. It was after eight by the time Ben booted up his computer and sent a group email to all his old friends in the SAS. 'Cub killed himself' and added the scanned copy of the article in the San Francisco Examiner. Plain facts in black and white.

Snake was the first one to call. He was currently on staff at Hereford, now teaching emergency medical proceedures to recruits.

Ben actually moved to pick up the phone when he heard Snake on the answerphone "Pick up, Fox. You have to talk.."

"Hey, Snake, how's the family?"

"Great, Mhaire is pregnant, again. I swear I look at her and it happens. Four kids, who in this day and age has four kids. I'm getting fixed after this one. Shit.. Fox. I thought Cub had finally got a good placement." Snake had been Fox's best friend in the SAS. Fox still talked to him regularly. You had to let off steam to someone and Snake had listened as Fox told all about the stresses and strains of working for MI6. Fox had learned all about Cairo after debriefing Smithers. Poor Alex had lost everyone. The sniper attack on the school had cost him his home, school and friends and Cairo had lost him his last bit of family.

Ben sighed, "He was misdiagnosed in hospital. No one caught on he had advanced PTSD. The kid asked for help and they sent him home. Sounds just like Puma, he walked into the IED no one could stop him. Just had enough. Cub had had enough as well."

"Can I post this on our general notice board. Nearly everyone remembers Cub."

"Go ahead. I guess I should organise a memorial."

The Smither's guy at MI6 had sent Tom an e-mail. Tom sat in his room and stared at the screen. He was meant to be tidying up but Tom had logged on to his account just to catch up but was now in shock. His mother came into his room and started moaning about the dirty cups, the clothes everywhere and the musty smell, when Tom whispered "Alex is dead, Alex Rider... Druggie Rider... my best mate killed himself last week."

Diane Harris was sure she had misheard her son, Alex had decent foster parents at last, something had happened to that flakey American girl and he'd gone to live in California. She stopped attempting to tidy up and looked around in shock "Excuse me?"

Tom stood to leave the room, stating in a clear voice.. "Alex Rider. Is dead. Suicide."

Tom walked out of his room, out of the flat, across the estate and went straight to the park and screamed at the top of his voice before collapsing on the ground. Those bastards had done this to his best friend. Tom Harris was sobbing his heart out in public, and barely noticed when his parents came to pick him up, to take him home. His mother had read the newspaper article. Alex had destroyed himself, not a normal suicide but long protracted self inflicted suffering. Weeks of starving himself, drug taking and finally wandering into the wilderness to die alone.

The memorial was a small gathering in Chelsea. A plaque was added to Ian Rider's tombstone. Alex Rider 1987 - 2002. There was no body and no coffin, but no one thought Alex was still alive. His wallet and his tattered jacket had been found in the desert. No sign a corpse. After 48 hours the search had been called off. The combination of dehydration, hypothermia and heatstroke would have killed any teenager after three days in the high desert.

Tom sneered at his classmates from Brookland who came to pay respects to the kid they'd all sent to coventry and gossiped about behind his back. He felt like spitting at Blunt and Jones, who looked cold and emotionless after their abuse of Alex had caused this. Tom was now a very angry young man. Not that he was staying in London. He was off to Italy in the morning. He was starting a new life with Jerry away from his crappy parents, the bastards at school and the bitter realisation of the type of people who ran the government. Tom had coasted at school, now he would work to become a good student like Alex had been, train to be the best footballer possible. He would live the life that should have been Alex's.

...

Pyro hung around the medical bay. Normally he would leave at the soonest opportunity but now he kept Ghost company. He sat in as the Professor taught Alex to shield himself and to control his gift. Pyro did not understand most of what went on. The two telepaths sat still and silent for their exchanges. Then Alex would touch Pyro and he would know everything. Touch telepathy and empathic transfer were Ghost's skills. Alex should be able to control his mind to prevent complete transfer of consciousness again. It was funny but the Professor thought their bonding was a good thing. Both boys were damaged by their pasts. Now they had each other.

Alex sat in the wheelchair and was taken upstairs to a large comfortable dorm room, two other beds, one of which was Pyro's, the other's Bobby's. Alex sat as Pyro talked of the rules of sharing living quarters. The blond boy mused on the fact he knew Bobby's habits intimately and had never met him. The sharing had been a strange experience, now a look between the two boys could convey so much. Their personalities were still distinct but they could read each other like, no closer than, twins. Pyro then opened the window and fished out a packet of Marlboro, offering one to Ghost. Alex took a deep draw of the lit cigarette. Funny, he remembered, even craved smoking, a thing he'd never actually done, but was now second nature.

"Umm, Jean said you'd need help dressing, getting about.. and ... uhh .. washing. So let me know if you need a slash or a shower." Pyro was a bit bashful at this point. "it just weird you've done loads of crappy scary amazing stuff..."

"And I'm still a virgin. I was fighting to stay alive. I'm emotionally stunted. I hardly ever wanked never mind thought about connecting with someone." Alex practiced blowing smoke through his nose and snorted, finding the sensation quite pleasant.

"What about that Yassen guy. He stated he loved you. I guess if you'd had half a chance you'd have fucked." Pyro said casually, he had not been a virgin since he was thirteen.

"Yeah, hot angry hate sex." Th more Alex thought about Yassen, the more he got their connection. So alike in the end.

"He was definitely hot" stated Pyro, lost in the memory of the beautiful dangerous Russian, "Hell, just popping that guy for dropping a package!"

"I know." The young ex-spy thought of the man who in the end had died trying to protect him from nutcase Damian Cray. Sending Alex to Malagosto was his way of trying to get his friend's son away from MI6. Alex looked at Pyro, he now had someone who knew all his deep dark secrets, mind you Alex knew all Pyro's. He wondered about his own empathic gift, as part of him as was Pyro's fire.

"So, Ghost. Have you ever watched a TV show called Babylon 5." At that Alex recalled a programme viewed through Pyro's eyes.

"PsiCorp?" Alex looked at the black gloves on his hands. "So, I should dress in black and act like ... ummm ... Blunt?"

"No, sex god Yassen. God I would love to know if that man swung our way."

Alex blushed, his desire for the russian had been ruthlessly suppressed in the past year. Pyro leant forward and touched Alex's face. As soon as they touched, emotions blended and Alex was lost in Pyro. From fingers to the soft touch of lips. Pyro tasted of smoke, chocolate and coffee. Alex was lost and found, two and one, this was the most intense experience, it beat snowboarding down a mountain, surviving a dam rupturing and all the other shit he'd lived through. Both kissing and being kissed. Ouroboros, a never-ending circle of feeling, arousal and belonging.