Alex hung back as Edward introduced his wife and daughter to the tall, handsome grey haired impeccably dressed man who had dark, almost black intense eyes. Alex noted the man spoke excellent english. Alex was tired after the flight and car journey to the huge dacha located south of Moscow. Alex had been expecting they'd be staying in some hotel in central Moscow, but Edward had been invited into Sergei's home. He observed the house, its exists, the private drive, the surrounding forest. It was a nightmare, a trap. Alex was in turmoil, trying to decide whether to play or to stay safe. Alex had decided to hang back and give nothing away to see how this visit played out.

Sergei Rushkov saw the young man, stood in the hall yawn. This was Alex Rider. He was tall, thin boy with a schooled, bored expression on his face. The mask of indifference that Edward had spoken about. Sergei led his guests into his large den. Comfortable sofas, a dining set and a selection of cold supper dishes had been set out. Alex moved to eat. He was starving. He looked at the various delicacies and made up a plate of black bread, cheese and sliced meat and then moved to get a can of coca cola.

Alex withdrew into himself, speaking little over the week, as he joined the Pleasures as they explored Moscow during the day and relaxed with Sergei at night. Alex retired early rather than interact, feeling left out of the family dynamic. The young man had noted that Sergei continued to watch him intensely. It was strange but Alex liked the scrutiny. On the friday, Edward, Liz and Sabina were off to go to the Tolstoy estate. While Alex had read Tolstoy, museums tended to be dry and boring and the whole thing was not his idea of fun. Alex decided to stay behind to read.

Sergei noted the boy, no young man standing by the open door of his office. So, Alex had not gone out today. Alex spoke in soft, hesitant russian, the first time he'd spoken to Sergei in russian. "I want to thank you for allowing me to stay. I wanted to visit Russia. I think I would like to stay and maybe go to university here."

Sergei was surprised by the fluency of Alex's russian and by the distinct Moscovite accent. "I am glad you have enjoyed your visit, you are welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Really?" Alex was shocked, the man was inviting him to stay after they had only spoken a handful of words together.

"Really. I know a few professors if you want an introduction."

"That would be cool." Alex then shuffled about, he bit his nails before asking. "Would you like to go out for lunch? I spotted a really cool place yesterday. If you have the time?"

"Sure. Why not." Sergei wanted to jnow Alex better. He could understand the reluctance of the teenager to trust or to connect, especially after his horrific ordeal three years previously.

Alex's chosen location for lunch had turned out to be in a small coffee house filled with a mixture of students and tourists in Central Moscow. The atmosphere was smoky and loud. The music was not to Sergei's tastes but he was not seventeen. He watched as Alex ate and talked of music he liked and a musician who'd encouraged him to write verse. They walked around Red Square after lunch.

"Is it really OK for me to stay? Its just I really don't have a flat or anything at the moment. I've just been bumming with friends. Three weeks with Harry, three weeks with the Pleasures. I planned to visit James."

Sergei was half amused by Alex's rambling, but more interested in Alex's friends, "Who are Harry and James?"

"Harry was, no is an army sergeant. We kept in touch after I spent six weeks at boot camp when I was fifteen. I'd had at that point a failed foster placement, a crummy time in the children's home and at boarding school. They tried to sort me out. It worked mostly. He thinks I need a strong father figure. Its cool. Umm, James and I were roomies at St. Jude's Therapy Centre. Both complete fuck-ups really. Best friends. We both got better, sort of. I went skiing with them at Christmas, James and his dad Dieter, Dieter Sprintz. You might know him."

Sergei smiled "We have been introduced by mutual acquaintances." He thought back to the particularly boring charity event where they'd met , before asking, "His son was mentally ill?"

"James.. PTSD, like me. He'd been held hostage at some school in France. Channeled all his angst into sex, booze and drugs. I tried that as well mind you. Not the sex.. Booze and drugs, it takes the edge of things. I'm clean now. Not even antidepresaants. Only the occasional beer." Alex cringed he was rambling again.

Alex broke the news to Edward that he was staying to look into going to uni here. Edward was surprised, worried and encouraging. Alex took note of Edward's concerns.

Alex had put on nearly a stone since Hereford and phoned Doc Pritchard with the news. The first week in Moscow on his own, Alex weight trained with Sergei's bodyguards, visited the libraries in Moscow and wrote several poems. At then end of the week Sergei took Alex to the ballet. The older russian had been appalled that Alex had never been to either the ballet or the opera. Something he was going to educate him about.

During his second week in Moscow, Alex met with Anna Mostova and she selected several poems for publication. Alex was nervous but she told him, he had a russian soul. Go figure. Alex then told Anna he had russian ancestor's on his mother's side of the family. His grandmother had been born in St. Petersburg.