Sorry, no excuse this time for taking so long. I just got lazy...:( If I ever take this long again, please feel free to send me a message involving a good, solid kick.

Anyways, thanks to everyone who pointed out that little error in the last chapter. And please let me know if there's something that needs fixing in this chapter.

Enjoy!


SIXTEEN

The alarm clock sat on the dresser, ticking faintly as it counted the time. Its large, luminescent green numbers read 6:59. Right beside the dresser, a figure lay motionless in bed, sprawled on top of the sheets, and tangled with the blankets. The figure was a teen aged boy, who was sleeping deeply, dreamlessly.

The clock chose that moment to switch over to 7:00. The moment the numbers changed, the clock erupted into a high-pitched beeping that was guaranteed to wake even the deepest slumberer. It certainly did its job; the boy in the bed jerked awake, eyes snapping open as he immediately came alert. He instinctively tried to jump out of bed and land in a ready crouch, but with his legs tangled as they were with blankets, he only ended up falling onto the floor with a heavy thud.

As the alarm continued with its annoying beeping, the boy lay still, trying to calm his racing heart. After a long while, he shoved the blanket away, and got to his feet. He leaned across the bed, and shut off the alarm.

He yawned widely, stretching out his arms above his head. Lowering his arms, he padded out of his small bedroom, and into the bathroom across the hallway. After closing and locking the door, he turned to face the mirror.

A stranger stared at him. The boy had, over the past few days, seen this face gazing back at him whenever he glanced into reflective surfaces, but it would be a long time until he would become used to it.

The face in question was young, crowned with a wild, spiky mess of black hair. The deep brown eyes that were gazing out of the face seemed intensely alert, with a hint of dark wildness hidden deep within their depths. They were eyes that didn't belong on the face of a teen aged boy. They belonged on the face of a killer.

The boy sighed to himself. His eyes had changed so much in such a short time, he barely was able to recognize them as his own. And not just his eyes. He himself had changed.

Pushing those weary thoughts away, he turned on the shower. As he waited for the water to warm, he slowly stripped off his pajamas. The clothing fell silently to the floor, creating a small heap. He reached out a hand, and let the water run through his fingers. It was hot, almost scalding.

He stepped into the shower, and almost flinched away at the heat. Closing his eyes, he let the water cascade down his body, and fill the air with hot steam. Old scars and injuries twinged as the hot water slid over them. He knew without looking where each scar was situated, and could tell a long story for each as how he had gotten them. But he didn't like to think about them; they were mementos of a dangerous, frightening past. A past that wasn't his.

Someone banged on the bathroom door, and a woman's voice called out. "Ian, get out of there! You're going to be late for school!"

A second sigh escaped his lips. But he grabbed the bottle of shampoo. "All right," he called out. "Just give me a minute!"

Several minutes later, the boy emerged from his bedroom, completely dressed and leaving a wet towel sprawled on his unmade bed. He padded softly down the hall, his eyes inadvertently flicking to the closed doors and the shadows in the corners where the light didn't reach.

Then he came to the kitchen, where he was greeted by a young woman who was only a few years older than himself. She turned, brushing long blond hair over one shoulder, and smiled widely. "Breakfast's on the table, Ian dear."

He bit back a faint scowl as he sat himself down. "Don't call me dear, Jacqueline. I'm not your son."

"Hey, take it easy, kid," a man spoke as he entered the kitchen. He cast a small frown at Ian, then smiled gently at the blond woman. "Jackie cares about you – you know that."

"Huh," Ian merely grunted, and dug into the plate of food that had been placed at his spot. "It's just weird. Who ever heard of newlyweds fostering a kid that's only ten years younger than them? What're the people at school gonna think, Ben?"

The man, Ben, grinned. "Just eat your breakfast, Ian. You don't want to be late for your first day."

Mumbling under his breath, the teen did as he was told. His name was Ian Daniels, and he was almost fifteen years old. His foster family, Jacqueline and Ben Daniels had just moved to the area, right after taking him in. While they were newlyweds, and fairly young – in their twenties – they had readily accepted him into their life.

And while he'd never admit it, Ian was very grateful. He had a troubled past, and didn't know what he'd do on his own.

He set his fork down, and stood up. "I'm going."

"Wait, Aaa – Ian!" Jacqueline called out. "Take your pills!"

"I have them," he told her. "And it's not like I need them anymore – it's practically healed already."

She opened her mouth to berate him, but as she looked at his face, at his brown eyes that were both alert and weary at the same time, she hesitated. He'd been through so much, with that recent 'accident' and all. He could take care of himself. She smiled at him.

"Take care, Ian."

The teen raised a hand in response as he left. After hearing the front door slam behind him, Jacqueline slumped wearily. She rubbed her temples, as if trying to soothe a headache away.

"I don't know if I can get used to this," she muttered.

"Yeah, it's pretty strange, isn't it?" Ben sat down at the table, using the chair that Ian had just vacated.

"Especially this hair," she scowled at the long blond hair that had been slung over a shoulder. "It's ugly, too long, and annoying! Why couldn't I just cut it and be done with it?"

"You know why," Ben softly said. He was dressed in a suit and tie, like a proper businessman. But his watchful gaze that took in his surroundings seemed a little too alert for a businessman. "It's for his safety."

"I know, I know," Jacqueline sighed. She cast an annoyed look at him. "But why did I have to be married to you?"

"Would you rather be married to Joseph?"

"Him? Are you kidding?" She stared at him for a long moment. Then a giggle escaped her. "No, no. I think he does much better as a janitor."

Ben chuckled. "He always wanted to go back to school."

Jacqueline opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. As she poured it into a glass, her amusement faded into concern. "Will he really be all right, going back to school?"

"I hope so," he said, becoming serious. "Joseph's there to look after him, anyway. He'll be fine."

ARAR

Ian pedaled slower, as he neared the school. Brookland. A familiar school. However, it was a school that he, as Ian, had never been to before. Ian was a transfer student from the other side of Britain.

He looked over the school grounds. Hundreds of students were milling about, chatting as they greeted one another, laughing as they joked. Some were familiar faces, and he ignored them as he got off his bike, and walked it to the bike stand.

A transfer student. His first time here. He locked up his bike, and tightened his grip on his bag. This. . .was going to be difficult. He took a shaky breath, and approached the nearest group of people. It was a girl and a guy, talking quietly together. Both were vaguely familiar.

"Um, excuse me?"

"Huh?" Both students looked up at him. The guy, a thin, nerdy type, blinked owlishly. "What do you want?"

"Ah, I'm new here," Ian quietly said. He kept his eyes focused downwards, acting shy. "Would you be able to help me find the office?"

"A transfer student?" The nerdy guy was surprised.

"Yes. I just moved here."

"Neat," the girl smiled. "I'm Wendy. And my friend's name is Stuart."

"I'm Ian Daniels," Ian told them. He was careful not to look them in the eye. He was afraid that if he did, they'd recognize him, despite the fact that he'd changed so much.

"Come on," Stuart said. "I'll take you to the office."

"Thanks."

While Ian was following his new acquaintances into the school, a short, well-built man watched him from a window. This man was wearing the blue overalls associated with his position as janitor, and he held the handle of a broom in one hand.

"So he's here," the janitor muttered to himself. He then turned away from the window, and pushed the broom towards the classroom door. School would start in fifteen minutes, so it was time that he got out of there.

Wolf scowled as he left the classroom. Why the heck was he carrying around a broom? He should be out somewhere on a mission, carrying a gun, not playing janitor.

"Joseph!" A woman's voice called out cheerily. He looked up to see a primly dressed woman, with brunette hair pulled back into a strict bun. "I'm glad I ran into you! The ladies room down the hall needs your attention. One of the stalls are running low on paper – could fix that please?"

He put a smile on his face. "Please, Ms. Amanda. Call me James."

"Why ever would I do that? Your name is Joseph."

"I know," Wolf smiled through gritted teeth. "But I much prefer James."

"Well, just take care of the ladies room, will you?"

"Of course." He kept the smile on his face until she had wisped past him. Then he allowed his customary scowl to return. That teacher, ever since he had started working as a janitor, had never ceased to irritate him. That, and her annoying insistence on calling him Joseph...

Despite his inner complaining, however, he wouldn't have let anyone else take this position. Using the guise as a janitor, he had access to every part of the school, and he would be able to keep his eyes and ears wide open. Because with Scorpia, one never knew.

ARARA

Ian stood at the front of the class, trying not to panic. He could feel the eyes of every single student staring at him, studying him, trying to figure him out. It wasn't that that bothered him, though. It was the fact that Tom was there. Tom, who had been best friends with his past self.

Relax, he told himself. There's no chance. No way. You are a totally different person.

He lifted his gaze, and looked directly at Tom. "My name is Ian Daniels," he told the class. "I just moved here with my foster family this week. I am looking forward to finishing this school year with you."

Tom seemed to pale slightly, and Ian wondered if Tom had figured it out. He hoped not. Because if Tom discovered the truth, MI6 would have to step in, and make sure that he would never talk.

"Thank you, Ian. You may sit down – there's an empty seat in the middle that you can take." The teacher was a thin woman with a wide, friendly smile. She now gave him one of those smiles, and he merely nodded, and went towards the empty desk.

He sat down, and took out the brand new textbooks that he had been given at the office. Settling in, he focused his gaze on the teacher, Mrs. Shubert. Time to pay attention, as he had a lot of stuff to catch up on.

ARARA

Tom couldn't shake the strange feeling he had gotten when he first looked at the transfer student. At first glance, the new boy was a complete stranger. But when their eyes had met, Tom noticed something familiar in those brown eyes. It was almost as if -

Then something had sparked in those eyes. Something wild and frightening, and Tom had suddenly become scared. He had never seen eyes like those in his entire life, but he knew immediately that Ian Daniels was a teenager with many secrets.

It scared him. It intrigued him. And he couldn't shake the feeling that something was familiar about Ian. Tom glanced sideways at the new student. Ian was sitting very still, his eyes alert and wary as he watched the teacher closely. Tom held back a shudder.

There was something. . .off about Ian Daniels.