A/N: Okay. Officially, this has got to be the best fandom on FFN. 31 reviews? Furthermore, a 31:34:566 review-alert-hits ratio? And with approximately 45% of the reviews filled with people taking the time to say why they liked the story instead of telling me to update soon? I love you all, and though this story is just about the most tiring thing I've written, it's definitely worth it.
...by the way, I forgot to mention that I've never been anywhere in Europe or the Americas. So, um. Yeah.
Also. I've put up a poll for you guys to decide whether you want Alex to pass Selection or fail - I've got a plot for each of them. Both can be pulled off reasonably believably, so there's no issue there.
Important: SIS = MI6 (MI6's actual name is the Secret Intelligence Service, or SIS. MI6 is colloquial.)
Massive, massive wonderful superexponentiallyfabulous thanks go out to kyokugen for beta'ing for me! (Welcome back, Maxy!) The wonderful Crimson Cupcake helped be my martial-arts checker too, so thanks as well~!
Trial and Error by Kiyuzanova
Chapter Two: Reunions and Alexi
As the silver Vauxhall Astra J/D drove through the roads out of Brecon, Alex felt his stomach churn. He snuck a glance in the direction of the MI6 representative at the wheel. It wasn't someone he recognized, but the signature dark suit and sunglasses weren't helping his nerves.
Soon enough, the houses along the streets disappeared, and soon wide, green plains were all that were visible around them. They'd entered the region of Mynydd Epynt, commonly referred to as Yr-Epynt. Stationed in the upper part of mid-Wales, Yr-Epynt lay in the heart of the Sennybridge Training Area, SENTA. Despite its name, SENTA was not actually located in Sennybridge but to the north. Eighteen hectares of mainly blanket bog and grass with a few stream valleys in between, it was the third largest military training area in the UK.
It also happened to be the location for the SAS Selection.
From the other front seat, Ben turned around to face him. "How're you feeling?"
Alex shrugged. Truthfully, though he was nervous, the other part of him was fired up and ready to go. "Alright, I guess."
Ben nodded, and tossed a small pouch to his direction. "Take this."
He'd clearly wanted to say more, but the Astra chose that moment to veer off the main road. They passed a rather stark building labelled 'Visitors/Conservation Centre' and turned once more before coming to a stop. The whirr of the engine cut off, and Alex heard a slight jingle when the representative pocketed the keys. With a meaningful stare the man stepped out of the car, and Alex made to follow suit when he noticed the other occupant hadn't moved.
"What about you?" Alex asked.
The SAS man shook his head. "I've been ordered to stay here. Keep yourself fit, and use your time wisely."
Alex nodded awkwardly. "Thanks."
"No problem."
The representative cleared his throat, and Alex quickly jumped out. He closed the door behind him. In the distance, he noticed a red flag and recalled one of the road signs:
Military Firing Range
When red flags or lights are displayed do not leave the public road except for information centres marked.
He pulled himself away when he heard muttering, and tried to ignore the stares from a group of other soldiers coming in. Doubtless they were also vying for a place, and the representative beside him attracted a lot of attention. A small distance away, the representative exchanged a few, quick words with what looked like the man in charge of Selection. Probably a Sergeant, Alex reckoned since the symbols on the guy's jacket matched up to the ones in memory.
He didn't have much longer to dwell on it when the representative nodded and stepped aside. The Sergeant moved forward, and Alex couldn't help but notice that one of his eyebrows had been burnt off, as well as a section of his hair.
"Rider, are you?" The man's voice suited his appearance: sour, deep, rough and gravelly. "I've no clue what SIS is thinking and you can be sure that I'm goddamned pissed. But understand that we won't compromise just because you're four years younger than everyone else here, you hear?"
Alex nodded. "Yes, sir." He'd long learnt that fewer words were better when concerning the military.
"Good. Now head to the stores, I don't have all day."
Alex nodded again, and with one last glance in the MI6 representative's direction he headed off toward the directed storeroom. He and the group of soldiers seemed to make it just in time, since the Quartermaster guarding the door gestured when they'd stopped.
There hadn't been much noise from the recruits but if they hadn't been paying attention they definitely were now.
"During your stay, you will be provided with all the standard gear and equipment you need." The Quartermaster told them. "If the gear doesn't fit you, too bad. When you've been deployed and need another pair of boots you'll only have our army-issue ones to deal with and you sure aren't as hell going to carry another pair with you.
"Up in the hills, all the weight in your bergen must be weight that's usable; water, food, spare clothes. There's no more using weights anymore, you're expected to survive and you will survive. You know what happens if you don't survive?"
Nobody took the bait. The corner of the Quartermaster's mouth pulled.
"It's simple: if you don't survive in the SAS, you die."
Alex hefted the bergen and sleeping bag in his arms, feeling the water bottles hit the survival kit inside. The Quartermaster, after his introductory speech, had let them collect the gear they would be using. Then the recruits had been directed toward a pin-up sheet that listed each of their names of in alphabetical order, and the room they were assigned.
Of the 187 recruits vying for a position, Alex's name had been the 119th name down the list.
The troop shelter they were to sleep in was only about a minute or so's walk from the stores. It had a slate blue roof and whitewashed walls that looked like they were painted over every few years. Like all the other landmarks in the SENTA, the only view in all 360 directions seemed to be the never ending grassy plains, divided only by trees and criss-crossing roads.
When Alex finally arrived at Room Three, he was greeted with a sleeping layout eerily similar to K-Unit's quarters at Brecon Beacons. The only difference in Room Three was that there were eight beds rather than four, and that people were still filing in. Alex went and claimed the bunk furthest away from the door. He dumped his cooker and the twenty-four hour rations on it. Afterwards, he didn't feel like unpacking so he turned around to watch the other men.
Once all eight were accounted for, Alex couldn't help but compare himself to the rest of them. Though there was one smaller than him, the man's knotted muscles made up for his size. The rest were all taller, and though they weren't as muscled as a fighter they were still extremely well-trained soldiers. Compared to their years of experience, Alex only did football and rowing, spent a week in the Welsh mountains and a few more at Malagosto.
Somehow, Alex knew that the feeling of foreboding that rushed through him wouldn't be the last.
One or two men left the room after they unpacked, and left after a cursory glance around the room. Alex wasn't surprised when their eyes lingered on him longer than everyone else, but they seemed to be more interested in guarding their own things and checking what other people had brought. Alex was too; some of them had the strangest collection of energy drinks, snack bars, foot oil, and one even had a pack of beer. He hadn't brought anything of his own except for the essentials.
Suddenly, he recalled Ben's pouch but before he could reach it one of the soldiers spoke first.
" 'ey, you."
Alex looked up to see two men standing there, both from the group of soldiers he'd seen earlier. The one who'd spoken stood a fraction shorter than the other, with dark, close-cropped hair and squinty eyes as if he were constantly looking near the sun. The eyes and voice were familiar somehow, and it took a moment before Alex identified why.
"You were one of the Green Jackets from RTI!"
Alex's memory had been correct. The man's name was Joshua Hall, otherwise known as Finn. He hadn't been the most studious child, but made up for it in his aggressiveness and attitude. In his school days, he called himself 'Finn the Winner'. When he was seventeen he'd applied for the army and ended up in the Royal Green Jackets. Whilst in deployment, an SAS troop was commissioned to bring them supplies. Finn had thought they were the coolest guys in the world and asked about Selection. 'If you train hard,' the SAS man had told him, 'Selection is a piece of cake. But if you fail, you won't get another shot.'
Come December, Finn had applied and failed almost immediately. He promptly spent the next year and a half dissing the Service, until he'd been told that applicants had two chances to join and not one.
To Alex's outburst, Finn's friend just looked clueless, whilst the man frowned. "I thought I recognized you," he said, and Alex almost cringed at the strength of his Yorkshire accent. "Cub, 'ent it? Why're you here at Selection if you're already in the Regiment?"
With those words, Alex found himself at the centre of attention. The previously silent room broke into murmurs.
"He passed Selection?"
"Shit! There go my chances!"
"How old is he anyway?"
Alex groaned. The Green Jackets had been called to run the Resistance To Interrogation component from his previous SAS training. They'd questioned him and the rest of K-Unit before throwing them inside a room, and he'd only gotten them out by climbing through a sewer. He really shouldn't have blurted it at all.
Then a realization hit him: after he'd climbed through the sewer, he'd sent them flying off the cliff and into the lake.
Oops.
Finn frowned at him just as Alex came to the conclusion. "You the one to send us off the cliff too?"
"Yeah. What about it?" There was no point denying it now.
"Listen 'ere, kid." He warned, eyes narrowing further. Then he swaggered forward and pointed a finger in Alex's face. "I've no clue what you're doing here or even what y're up to, but know this: Finn don't forget the bones you broke' on his friends. And Finn won't forgive."
Scorpia don't forgive, Scorpia don't forget, Alex thought instead. Hearing the normally dangerous threat being butchered and spoken in Tyke didn't help assert the situation as Finn probably hoped. Unknowing of this, the man just left the room. His friend followed.
"Were you in the SAS?" A voice to his left asked curiously.
Alex looked around to see a man who had to be in his twenties. He had surprisingly boyish looks, as if he'd started puberty but changed his mind about it halfway. "Only for a while."
"How did you get through Selection?"
"There were...special circumstances, so I didn't go through the...usual route," admitted Alex. "I was only there to train for ten days."
The other guy whistled. "That's cool." But by the look on his face, Alex knew he was probably considering a rich background or parents with influential positions. "I'm Alex, but they all call me Al. You?"
"Alex."
Al raised his eyebrow. "What a coincidence, having two Alexes in the same room. Alexi, maybe." He tapped his finger idly. "Not an Alexander?"
"No."
Al shrugged, and there was something about his amicable personality compared to the the tension amongst the rest of the soldiers that drew Alex to him.
"Where're you from?" Al asked.
By his tone, Alex could tell he was referring to the armed forces and not his hometown. He wondered briefly what to say, but since neither Mrs Jones nor the MI6 representative informed him what to do he opted for the truth. "I never went."
"How'd you get into Selection, then?"
"Special...circumstances." He was really getting sick of those words. Al's other eyebrow went up and Alex knew he was being prompted. "They're...classified."
"I see." Al said simply. There was something in his expression that had changed into suspicion, but luckily for Alex it didn't seem to go beyond that. "Good luck."
"Likewise."
If Al had heard him, he didn't show it. Alex groaned; he'd known that the other soldiers wouldn't have treated him as well. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon.
Trying to distract himself, Alex left the room. There were a few men in the halls, idling and some murmuring to one another in low tones. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but not many people wore their military uniform. Most of them, like himself, just chose dark shirts and jeans. Comfortable and easy to move in.
He didn't pass any of the uniformed Green Jackets in the hallway. But he did look into the loud noises from Room Nine, and found just about all of them lounging around inside. A radio was on in the corner, with the sound turned up high. Finn had been in the centre of the lot, telling a tale about some romantic pursuit or other.
Once outside the troop shelter, Alex allowed himself to stretch his limbs. He'd been told by Ben about SENTA, though he knew the man hadn't been trained there. Nineteen by eight kilometres, Ben'd said. But like all things of large scales it wasn't easy to envision just how big it was until it was actually seen. Nineteen kilometres would've been a little over two hours at a jog. Alex quashed his stirring curiosity at just what SENTA could possibly contain. The red flags were still up, and it was unsafe to go any further.
Footsteps approached him, the distinct noises of combat boots against the ground. He turned around to see one of the Green Jackets. Other than the man's face, the sheer height easily tipped Alex off that this was one he hadn't met before.
"Why are you here?" The man asked.
"I—"
"Why are you here?" The man repeated. "How old are you?"
Alex frowned. The man was getting aggressive for no reason at all. "I don't see why you need to know."
"The SAS isn't a place for kids."
"I know that."
"Word is you've no military training."
Alex's frown deepened. "So what?"
"So," The man drawled, "how the heck did you get in? Rich parents paid for you?"
"That's none of your business."
"Answer me!"
Alex sensed the man tensing his muscles in preparation to strike before he visibly saw any change. Immediately, he slid into the forward leaning stance he'd been drilled in karate over and over again; legs one shoulder width apart and right leg about one and a half behind. As his opponent's easy 6'2" seemed to be from sacrificing muscle mass for height, Alex knew that such appearances were easily deceiving. As a result he kept himself lower than his preferred height, knowing that every bit of power and stability would be necessary.
However, to his surprise, the man didn't strike. Instead, he relaxed. Alex didn't move, since it could have easily been a distraction.
"Reflexes," the man muttered. Then louder, "Martial arts won't help you in the SAS."
He paused, considering something.
"Alright," he said finally. "Tell you what: I won't ask how you got in. But there's just one thing I want to know."
"What?"
"What made you go for the SAS?"
"I—"
"You probably haven't realized it yet, but it's a commitment for life. People spend years training for Selection. After Selection, it's work in life-threatening situations. If you somehow live until your thirties, you'll have state secrets to protect. It's impossible to go back to a normal life. Why'd you come back, Cub?"
There was almost a strange sort of pause as Alex tried to digest the information.
"Do I know you?" he asked.
"It's Monitor," Monitor said. "From K—I was in L-Unit when you were still in training. Later got transferred to K."
"But K didn't train with L."
Monitor rolled his eyes. "That's because we were on strip duty. We crossed paths a few times in the mess hall. Sorry if you didn't notice, but I piloted in France."
Alex nodded. Strip duty was what soldiers referred to the standby phase, in which they were ready on-call to instantly respond to any emergency anywhere in the world. And in France...he paled when he remembered Point Blanc, and Wolf's troop. Wolf must have gotten transferred to L-Unit. Alex hadn't bothered looking too closely at anyone other than his former leader.
"Why are you here, then?"
"I'm on leave."
"...Here?"
A shrug. "Got bored. Decided to see if any of the new guys are any good, so I found my old uniform. You won't believe how the Green Jackets like to stick together. Plus, Finn knows me and I just said I quit the Light Infantry 'cause I failed Selection and got sick of the whole thing."
Alex had to admit it was a reasonable explanation. But there was just one small thing that bothered him.
"You're being awfully nice to 'Double 0 Nothing'."
A malicious grin grew on Monitor's face. "Eagle and I made a bet."
Something about the way he said it changed Alex's mind. "I don't think I want to know."
"You don't." Monitor looked like he wanted to say something else. Before he did, his expression changed a few more times. "So like I said. Think carefully about joining."
Alex nodded again, and Monitor headed back to the shelter. An eerie, echoey silence fell over him when the man was gone. It left him as the only person outside.
Why was he there? Alex's thoughts echoed Monitor's words. Why, of all places did he go to the SAS for training?
Of course, it had seemed like a wonderful idea when he'd been in the Royal and General. And then he'd forgotten as he trained his endurance and stamina in his month with Ben. Those weeks spent doing nothing but runs in Curt-y-Gollen, an army base that had been both half-empty and about to close down. That was probably why MI6 could send him.
But, Alex thought, that had only been the pain he'd gone through just to get into the SAS. What would happen if he passed?
What would happen if he failed?
That...no, that wasn't something he could think about. He couldn't turn back now. He'd known what he was getting into when he'd insisted on joining. To turn back would only be breaking his word.
He was fighting in Jack's memory. In the memory of all the others that had died or gotten injured even though they shouldn't have.
If MI6 wanted to use him, then fine. There was nothing in Britain left for him anyway. And how could he show his face before his friends when he'd ultimately been responsible for Jack's death? He'd already been stupid enough to draw Sabina into his life on Air Force One. A situation like that couldn't—shouldn't—happen to her again.
Alex knew. It didn't matter that the other soldiers had become antagonistic toward him. He would fight on. He would get enough training so that his missions' successes were from skill, and not from luck.
From the building, Monitor turned around and walked away.
A/N: Did you notice how I didn't have Alex automatically turning around into a fighter's crouch when he heard Monitor's footsteps? :U
I post updates every now and then on my Profile if you want to know the status of each new chapter, so check it out if you want. Don't forget the poll, it'll decide the fate of the story! :D