A/N: So, I am getting slightly better at updating – it's only been a month and a half, this time. Proud of me? Or just pissed that it's still about three times as long as it should have been? Oh, by the way, there's a poll on my profile, if you could go and vote it'd really help me. I just want to know who's interested in a sequel to my story Dangerous. Anyway, I won't delay you any longer… read on!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.
-o-O-o-
Dawn was already filtering through the grimy skylight when Yassen returned to the attic, Alex asleep in his arms. Most of the mattresses were occupied, but there was a single free and, next to it, Graham and Tom were waiting.
"How is he?" asked Graham, quietly.
"Exhausted," replied Yassen. "He's not good at coping with grief."
"I'm not surprised," said Tom, gently taking Alex from Yassen and laying him between the two soldiers. "He's lost so much already."
Yassen nodded sadly and moved towards the spare single. Behind him, Alex unconsciously curled into Graham, resting his head on his shoulder, and pulled Tom close behind him.
Yassen frowned. He knew that Alex would survive this, with support from those two, but if either of them died…
Yassen shook himself and lay down. Alex would survive that as well. Yassen would make sure of it.
-o-O-o-
The evening found Alex in the kitchen with Tom and Emily. He had a suspicion that Tom was trying to flirt with Emily, but if so, he was failing rather spectacularly seeing as all he had managed was to get her to shoot him weird looks every few seconds.
The timely entrance of Mathew interrupted the disturbingly domestic scene.
"Rider," greeted the man, with a courteous nod. For the last week, the two had been making a conscious effort to be at least civil with each other.
"Mathew," replied Alex. He couldn't call him Starbright. The reminder was too strong.
"Call me Matt," said Mathew – Matt – hesitantly holding out a hand.
"Call me Alex, then," said Alex, clasping his hand.
Matt nodded seriously, and sat down opposite him.
"I need to talk to you about bugging the building," he said, lowly.
"What's the problem," enquired Alex, quickly dropping into planning mode.
Matt opened his mouth, but was forestalled by Alex raising a hand. "And please cut all the computer jargon out, I don't have a hope in hell of understanding it."
He really needed to talk to Yassen about learning about computers.
Matt held up a small blue box with wires sticking out or each end. "We need to attach this to one of the network wires."
"Physically attach?" asked Alex with a groan. "I thought the point of hacking was to avoid having to break in?"
Matt shrugged, unapologetically. "Can't change the fact, sorry."
Alex sighed. "Right. Fine. Do you know if Yassen has retrieved the blueprints, yet?"
Matt nodded. "He got them last week."
Alex winced. He should have known that. He hated having to play catch up due to his own inattention.
"Ok, I'll have a look at them and get back to you."
-o-O-o-
Somehow, without realising it, mused Graham, Alex had managed to become an unofficial leader. True, the SAS soldiers would look to Wolf before him, and Yassen never followed anyone's orders unless he wanted to, but if Alex made a suggestion, or asked someone to do something, it tended to happen.
Graham didn't think Alex had realised yet, which was somewhat unbelievable given the fact that one of the resistance soldiers had actually called Alex sir, earlier, but it was true nonetheless.
Currently, Alex was pouring over the blueprints that Yassen had broken in and copied. Apparently, he hadn't simply stolen them because this way, it would be almost impossible for the employees there to realise that anyone had managed to get their hands on them. Personally, Graham had thought that they might be being slightly paranoid and overcautious, but Alex had nodded approvingly, so he had thought it best to keep his mouth shut on the subject.
He guessed that it never hurt to be too careful.
It was the usual crowd in the room. Graham and Tom were there, obviously, although admittedly this was mainly because they wanted to keep an eye on Alex than because they had any real input to make. Yassen was reclining in an armchair in one corner, apparently relaxed although his eyes still relentlessly followed the movements of everyone else.
Matt and Emily were side by side at the table in the middle, with Alex opposite them and Wolf at his shoulder. Everyone seemed to be focused on Alex, waiting for his decision.
"This is where we need to get to, right?" asked Alex, placing a finger on the map and glancing at Matt, who nodded.
"Right," continued Alex. "We're in luck. The vent goes right through there. We can access it from the roof-" his finger moved over to the relevant area –" and it'll be easy enough to get in and out."
"And getting up to the roof?" asked Emily, frowning.
"The building was designed to be secretive," said Wolf, reaching forward to shuffle around in the pile of paper until he found a map of the street. "I mean, sure, they'll have cameras and stuff, but actually getting to the roof isn't physically challenging – you could easily go from the roof next door."
"I'll leave in an hour."
-o-O-o-
The building he broke into was an office block. The marks of typical office life crowded around him as he snuck passed, leaving the desks, and the photos, ornaments and knick-knacks that occupied them, undisturbed. Such signs of normality seemed out of place in the world he now inhabited. He slipped by, little more than a shadow, leaving only the silence to whisper of his passage.
The door to the roof was alarmed, but it was the work of a moment to disable it. If all went to plan, he would be returning this way, and could rearm it then.
It was cold outside, with a harsh wind whipping across the rooftops and raising goosebumps across his skin. He shivered slightly and crossed to the edge.
The building, while not cleared for two hundred yards in every direction like the building where Matt was held, was still not directly against the buildings on either side. It was a good two metre jump, with half-concealed cameras sweeping the rooftop constantly. Unfortunately, their opponents weren't idiots.
He stood for about ten minutes, counting. He had perhaps thirty seconds to clear the gap and reach the only safe spot on the roof, a one metre by one metre blind spot in an otherwise perfect defence.
He swallowed and backed up.
One deep breath and he began to run, his feet pounding the concrete as his arms pumped the air.
There was a moment of silence as he soared, a moment when it seemed he could do anything, hang suspended for forever, ignore all his responsibilities so far below, but then the ground was rushing up towards him and there was a bang as he rolled out of the landing.
He sprinted and collapsed in the safe zone, massaging his shoulder where he had landed on it, painfully hard.
A few feet away, just out of his safe zone, sat the ventilation shafts – eight of them, clustered together, each with a fan at the top to suck air in, or push it out he supposed, and a trap door directly below the fan, for maintenance purposes.
Thankfully, he had up to a minute to complete this part, as long as he timed it right. As the camera swept over the shafts again, he stuffed a piece of bubblegum in his mouth. The camera swept back and then away towards the edge and he moved.
It was the work of a moment to stuff the sticky gum into the lock, but the next twenty seconds, while Alex waited with baited breath for the tell-tale crack of the breaking lock, were quite possibly the longest of his life. Finally, the metal gave way and Alex hastened inside the metal tube, pulling the grate closed behind him.
Thankfully, it stayed shut despite the broken lock, and the camera swept by with no-one any the wiser.
Alex let out a sigh and took stock of his surroundings. He was half-crouched in a tube that would just allow for a fully grown man to move through it, if rather uncomfortably. Alex was suddenly rather glad that he had not filled out to the broad shouldered build that both Ian and John, in what photos Alex had had, had possessed. Instead, he seemed to have inherited his mother's lithe frame, although admittedly this could be proven wrong as grew older.
Above his head, a fan whirred, each blade slicing through the air with a steady, repetitive vwhump, vwhump that calmed Alex's stuttering nerves, as unexpected as that may be around a potentially deadly piece of equipment.
Well, no, he doubted it would kill him. But still. It would hurt, a lot.
Beneath his feet, the shaft curved away, and Alex sighed. He'd better get moving, then.
-o-O-o-
A/N: So what did you think? If I keep getting lots of reviews, I'm sure I'll bet more inspired to write! Having said that, I'll try my best to have the next update up within two weeks, no matter the number of reviews. But yeah, reviews are love. So you want to review, don't you? Or do you not love me anymore? :(