Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me and I make no money with it.

Summary: There's really nothing to do but talk when you're driving for hours on end.

Author's Notes: Alex is dealing with the whole thing by not dealing with it. Right now he's pretending everything is just peachy and he only has a little cold.

Date: Jan. 2nd - 9 am, between Rainbow and Cat (Timeline: http :/ shiruy. livejournal. com/ 3602. html)

Edited: 18.12.10

23. Vacation

"Oh, hey, look!" Alex fished a travel brochure out of the grocery bag Yassen had brought back from the store and waved it at the man.

The assassin threw him a dubious look. Alex ignored it.

They were driving again, slowly making their way across the country on small, little used streets. The teen still had no idea where they were going and he didn't feel up to asking just yet.

"They're offering last minute flights. One week in Turkey for 200€. I bet the hotel's just about the cheapest dive they could find."

Yassen didn't react. The young spy decided to interpret his silence as a wish to know more about the offered holiday destinations.

"There's also an offer for two weeks in India. Have you ever been there?"

No answer. The teen sighed quietly and turned the page. He blinked.

"Prague. I've been there once with Ian." Strolling through the streets, talking about Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger. He smiled a little, but it wasn't entirely happy. "He taught me how to pickpocket there."

That finally seemed to catch the assassin's attention. "What else did he teach you?"

Alex looked at the man, a little surprised, but Yassen's eyes were still fixed on the street. What, did he want the teen to start counting off everything Ian had ever taught him? Well, he sure as hell wasn't about to do that. Instead he shrugged uncomfortably and looked out at the trees rushing past. "Anything he thought could be useful."

Stealing, lying, surfing, snowboarding, diving, climbing, driving, fighting, several languages, how to hide, how to look like you have every right to be wherever you're sneaking around right then, dealing with money, cooking... A whole slew of eclectic skills. He used to think that Ian just wanted him to be as self-reliant as possible, but in retrospect, it was painfully obvious what his uncle had tried to mould him into all his life.

"Is that why you work for MI6? Because your uncle wanted you to?"

Yassen's tone of voice made Alex sit up and take notice. He wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't spent several hours in the man's company already, but he had, and he was pretty sure that the assassin sounded half curious, half disapproving just then. What, did he think it was all fun and games for the teen, prancing around as a spy instead of going back to school?

He scowled, surprised himself by how offended he was. He hadn't thought the man's opinion would matter to him. "No. If I had a say in the matter I wouldn't have anything to do with them."

For the first time, Yassen glanced away from the street and at Alex. "Then why do you?"

The young spy was quiet for a while, thinking about his answer. He could say that he was doing it for his country. He could say that he was doing it for the kicks. He could say that he wanted to follow in his father's and uncle's footsteps. What the Russian thought shouldn't matter to him, so why tell him the truth? But then again, why not? He'd never made a secret of the fact that MI6 was blackmailing him. And it wasn't like anyone but Jack had ever cared. The worst the assassin could do was laugh at him or something.

[Only that Yassen had cared so much already and Alex wanted...]

The teen gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, his shoulders tense. "After my uncle died they kept him on the books to keep my records sealed. There're some pretty questionable things I was involved in over the last couple of months because of the agency. They're holding that over my head."

His hands were clenched so tightly that he felt his short fingernails digging into his palms and he scowled darkly. Just thinking about his situation made him furious, and he hadn't even mentioned half of the other shit they had threatened him with.

"How did they get you into this in the first place?"

Of course Yassen had to pick up on his omission right away. He sighed and sunk deeper into his seat, blankly staring ahead into the bleak morning. "Why d'you even want to know?"

He didn't want to talk about this. Especially not with Yassen, who was at least partly at fault for assassinating Ian in the first place. And that? Yeah, that was one issue he definitely did not want to even start thinking about right now.

When no answer came forth for several seconds Alex glanced at the Russian, his frown turning into surprise as he saw the other's expression. The usually so cold ice-blue eyes had gone dark and stormy, pale lips pressed together into a thin line, and the teen felt his breath stutter in his chest. [What...?] In what little experience he had it was very rare for the man to show much of any emotion, and now that he did, he found himself completely unable to interpret it. Was Yassen angry at him?

Then the man let out a deep breath and his features smoothed out. "You don't have to tell me, but I would like to know."

It was not an answer to his question, but as close to a please as the man was likely ever going to get. Before he quite knew it the words were spilling out, "It... it started when my uncle died."

He hesitated, slightly disbelieving that he was really explaining this just because Yassen had asked nicely.

"He left my guardianship to the bank MI6 uses as a front, I don't know why." He wasn't sure the answer would be any better than not knowing either. "At the time my housekeeper's passport had run out and they threatened to get her deported if I didn't go along with their plan. Jack's... she's pretty much the only family I have left." He stared out the window, refusing to let his voice waver. "There wasn't much of a choice."

He fell silent and Yassen didn't push for more. Alex was grateful, especially since he was certain he'd end up telling the Russian more than he really wanted to if the man continued asking.

He didn't usually go around spilling his guts to everyone who asked - Jack often said getting anything out of him was like pulling teeth - but with Yassen... It was different. Somehow. Maybe because the assassin was part of this world as well and would understand. He wouldn't be shocked and outraged by the thought of a legal organization using threats and blackmail to make someone compliant. He wouldn't try to push Alex into going to the police or making the story public. He would just listen and understand and maybe if the spy got lucky the Russian would even have some kind of idea as to how to get out of this mess.

The teen shifted in his seat and leaned his aching head back against the cool window, turning so that there was no pressure on his right shoulder. He was getting sleepy again and when he glanced at the other from beneath his lashes he thought that he wasn't the only one who looked tired.

Yassen was pale, dark circles beneath his eyes, and the teen noticed a light blue bruise at the edge of his jaw. The teen wondered what poor shmuck had gotten unlucky enough to hit the assassin in the face. Alex got the impression that the Russian was a firm believer in excessive retribution.

So if he had interfered with the assassin's work again and again, how come that he was still alive? How come that Yassen was actively helping him? That first time with Sayle he had told Alex that he hadn't had any orders pertaining to him... but after that? Even if Yassen felt that he owed John Rider something, he had gone way beyond this by now.

The young spy tugged his sweater up over his cold nose and got comfortable to sleep again. His mind was just running in circles right now anyway, might as well catch up on some rest instead of waste the time. But speaking of rest...

"Are we going to stop somewhere soon?" He really wanted to take a shower. He was sticky and dirty. He could feel Yassen's gaze on him and wondered what the man saw.

"No."

He curled his legs up beneath him onto the seat and frowned a little. "But you are tired. I'd prefer not to get into an accident." 'And you look like death warmed over', but he couldn't say that.

"I'm a good driver," came the deadpan reply.

"That's what they all say," he commented loftily, a slight smile twisting his lips.

There was a quiet snort. "We will stop once we have crossed the border."

The teen hummed in answer and snuggled down into the seat. He had no idea which border Yassen was even talking about, but then he figured that it wasn't really that important anyway. The assassin had dragged him along this far, so Alex trusted him not to suddenly throw him out and abandon him on the side of the street.