Probably the most difficult part of moving on was, ironically, the crushing feeling of being left behind. Eagle may have no longer been a field member of SAS and was waiting for his honorable discharge papers but he was definitely having a difficult time with the fact that the rest of K-Unit was already out in the field. He would never work with them again and it was killing him.
The injury he could live with. Walking with a limp for the rest of his life he could live with. Hell, the disfiguration of the skin and muscle in his leg he could live with. But not being with his friends-his teammates-in the field was something he was having trouble with. They had been together from the very beginning and there many things that they had shared that no one else would ever really understand.
Tom and Alex were one of things.
Helter Skelter was another one of those things.
Eagle didn't want to be left out of any more those things. He wanted to be there. Until the end.
But life hasn't worked out that way and while he was grateful-very grateful-that his luck had held long enough to still be alive, the thought of what to do now left him in a quandary. Although, he didn't have long to sit around and think about his life choices. Because this was the Rider home. And the Rider home was anything but calm.
00000
He stomped up the hallway to answer the ringing doorbell. Why this person felt the need to ring the doorbell continuously was beyond him. After all, people were still sleeping. It didn't matter that it was one in the afternoon. People recovering from crippling wounds were trying to sleep off their medication.
Eagle yanked open the door, fully prepared to his cane in a threatening manner if need be and froze when a flash of light went off in his face. He blinked, recognizing it as a camera flash which was the only reason the person holding the camera wasn't being hit with a medical cane. He raised an eyebrow sardonically at the person knowing full well that he probably looked a strange sight in sweatpants, no shirt, mussed hair, and bleary eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Harry Bulman," the man replied happily enough. Too happy. It was suspicious.
"Am I supposed to know that name?"
"No, but I know your's Mr. Rosten."
Eagle stared at him, unimpressed.
"Or should I call you Eagle?"
That had his attention and the ex-soldier pulled himself together long enough to peer at the man in front of him. Harry Bulman was clean cut, not rich based off his clothes, and not a laborer by the looks of his hands and shoes. He had the skin of a man who had once spent a lot of time in the sun but that was long ago. Eagle could see tan lines on his wrist where his button down was riding up which meant he wasn't the type of man who was a tourist.
In fact, he had the distinct air of an international reporter.
"Reporter," he stated. Bulman blinked in response.
"How did you know?" he asked.
"No comment," Eagle sneered, uninterested in being polite. He started to slam the door but Bulman stopped it with his hand. Eagle glared first at the hand on his front door and then at the man that hand belonged to.
"I'm here to talk to Cub."
Eagle's heart leapt into his throat and he could feel a slight rush of panic. Cub was the British government's most well kept secret. What was a reporter doing with that name?
"Who?" he asked, playing dumb on instinct. Bulman didn't buy it.
"Oh come on," he chided. "Cub. The enigmatic Cub. MI6's favorite weapon. Word on the street is that you worked with him once."
"There is no word on the street about Cub," Eagle told him, glad to note that Bulman didn't seem to know that Cub was a teenager or that he lived in the house. That, or he was playing his hand close to his chest. "Where did you hear that name?"
"I know some people," Bulman responded and Eagle huffed. Of course he did.
"Well, I would cut ties with those people," Eagle said. "Because they're feeding you bad information."
"I don't think so," Bulman responded. "You know him. I know you do."
Bulman reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Eagle who knew immediately that it was a photograph based on the paper stock. Unfolding it he tried his best to wipe his face clear of his surprise. Bulman was good. It was a picture of Alex.
A school photo that Eagle recognized. He'd signed the check for the picture package after all. Jack had one hanging on the fridge and had even saw fit to stuff one in Eagle's wallet. The rest were in America.
"It's curious," Bulman said reveling in the suppressed reaction from the ex-soldier, "how you came to be his guardian."
"I'm not his guardian," Eagle spat. The man more than likely already knew that. He just wanted to see what Eagle would do. He was trying to gauge the relationship between Eagle and Alex. Eagle was fairly certain as to why too.
"Oh? His handler then?"
"What do you want?"
"I want awards and fame and money," Bulman said with a sickly sweet voice that set Eagle's teeth on edge. "And when I write a tell-all article about a teenaged spy and the adults in his life who let it happen, I will have all those things and more. Smile."
With that Bulman snapped another photo and left the stoop before Eagle could blink the spots out of his eyes.
00000
Eagle sat on the couch for the next few hours, good leg bouncing with nervous energy, and waited for Jack or Alex to come home. However, when the door finally opened and a teenager entered the living room it wasn't the teenager he wanted to talk to.
"Oh, it's you," he said, disappointment clear. Tom gave him a funny look.
"Well, hello to you too. I had a wonderful day thanks for asking." Eagle glared at him. "What?"
"Where is Alex?"
"He has detention," Tom replied. "He accidently caught Mr. Topez's toupee in a fishing wire."
"Why did he have a fishing wire?" Eagle asked, momentarily distracted.
"We needed the wire to hang the t-rex off the side of the railing." Eagle stared wanting to ask and knowing that he shouldn't. "Anyway," Tom continued. "Why are you so grumps?"
"I'm not grumps."
"Whose grumps?" Tom simpered.
"Tom!" Eagle snapped and then took a deep breath in order to calm himself while Tom just looked satisfied with himself. Not for the first time did he wish that Wolf was here. He had never really had to deal with Tom on his own. Wolf had always been around to threaten the kid with something that would actually work.
But Eagle didn't really know that much about Tom. He knew a few things sure like the quirks and the backstory. Wolf was the one that knew everything. And Eagle meant everything. Sometimes he thought Wolf could read Tom's mind which was a scary thought considering that Tom's mind was a snake pit.
"Okay, seriously," Tom said, cutting Eagle from his train of thought. "What happened now?"
"A reporter," Eagle told him and handed him the surveillance photo. "He knows about Cub and probably you as well. He plans on writing a tell-all article that will expose us all."
"Well, it was bound to happen eventually," Tom said, thoroughly surprising Eagle. He had thought the boy would be as shocked as he was.
"You considered this?"
"Of course," Tom said with a tone that meant Eagle also should have thought of it. "So did Alex. And Wolf. There's even a plan."
"Plan?" Eagle asked, alarmed. Was Wolf sitting in his new flat scheming with these two? Or was Tom just telling him everything?
"Yeah, Operation Amazeballs. You should tag-along. It calls for a person with a legal driver's license." Tom said all of this with a distracted air about him as he pulled out his iPhone (a gift from his father) and clicked onto the internet. "What was this guy's name?"
"Harry Bulman," Eagle replied, unable to do anything but play along. Despite having been through similar craziness before Eagle always found it jarring.
"Harry Bulman," Tom said and then rattled off the man's facts. "In his thirties, used to be a member of the SAS, now a war correspondent. Has won several local journalism awards but nothing too big. Lives in London. Perfect."
"Hmm," Eagle hummed thoughtfully. If this man had once been in the SAS then he probably still had plenty of friends in the organization. Friends with lips that were far too loose and trusting. It sat very ill in Eagle's stomach. After all, they had been burned by one of their own before. He hated to think he was going to have face something similar with his friends out of the country. He pulled out his own mobile and clicked through his contacts.
Choosing one carefully, he pressed send.
"Hey Andy!" greeted a very happy person on the other end. Eagle smiled. Panther was a good friend and he was also very popular. He was probably the exact person he needed to call for information.
"Hi John," he responded and after a few moments of pleasantries and questions about his leg, Eagle got down to business. "Have you ever heard about a reporter named Harry Bulman?" The sudden silence on the other end was very telling.
"Caught up with you did he?" Panther asked with a sigh. "I'm sorry, man. I should have warned you."
"Probably, yeah," Eagle responded snarkily. "What do you know about him?"
"He's small time really," Panther replied. "But somebody let slip about two kids staying at Brecon Beacons a while back and he's been sniffing around ever since. He approached me about a month ago. He asked about both Cub and Accomplice. Luckily, he didn't have any clue who Accomplie was. He thinks it's another agent."
"Small miracles," Eagle responded.
"Yeah. I was going to let you know about it but then Wolf was taken and I quite honestly forgot."
"It's fine," Eagle told him and really it was. He could understand forgetting about Bulman. "Do you know where he lives?"
"Why? You gonna shot him?" Panther joked and then fell into an uneasy chortle. "You aren't though are you?"
"Oh course not," Eagle smirked and looked Tom dead in the eye. "I have something much better."
"What?"
"I'm going to throw Accomplice at him and then call in MI6 to clean up the mess." Tom smirked back at him, bouncing on his toes in excitement. He heard Panther sigh but he gave the address up easily enough.
"He had a party there once," Panther told him. "That's where he cornered me about the boys."
"Thank you, buddy. I appreciate it."
"Don't worry about it."
00000
"How stupid do you have to be to invite and then corner a SAS soldier in your own home?" Tom asked.
"Pretty stupid," Eagle replied. They were sitting in Jack's Mini watching the front door of the apartment building across the street. "Although I think it's more cockiness than anything else."
"Maybe," Tom said, thumbs flying across the screen of his mobile without even looking. Eagle wondered how often he texted in order to achieve a skill like that.
"So what exactly does this plan entail?" Eagle asked, annoyed that he had driven all this way without any sort of knowledge about the plan.
Tom put down his mobile long enough to look up at the flat window.
"That," Tom said and pointed to a man crawling out of the second floor window and making a wild jump to the pavement below. Eagle winced at how the man's ankle twisted but he didn't have long to feel sympathy when he noticed that it was Harry Bulman. He started the car and peeled out of his parking spot to follow a limping Bulman down the street.
He was able to corner him at the end of the street and rolled down the window to speak to a thoroughly terrified reporter.
"Get in," he said.
"No!"
"Get in," he repeated with much more force and venom. Bulman gulped, looked over his shoulder, and then back at Eagle. It only took him a moment to decide that Eagle was the less of two evils. He slipped into the back seat and shut the door with a loud bang.
"Go to the park," Tom told him. Eagle glanced at him and considered putting up a fuss but in all honesty he was having a pretty good time. It was like being back in the Unit. Snake with his plans; Fox with his smooth moves; Wolf with his brute intimidation; and him, with his back-up for all of them. Suddenly, he was a back-up of another kind and while it was completely different he couldn't help but enjoy it for what it was.
So he settled into the seat, pointed the car towards the park, and listened closely to Tom's maneuvering.
"So, Mr. Bulman," Tom started, peering through the seats at the uncomfortable man in the back. "I see you've completely missed the part about all the blackmailers and evil people who didn't come out on top after tangling with the great and mighty Cub." Eagle almost snorted.
"Wh-who are you?" Bulman stammered. His eyes were really wide and in the rearview mirror Eagle could see that he was sweating and his left eyelid was twitching. Gone was the confident reporter from the stoop.
"I am the Accomplice," Tom told him. Eagle wondered when the kid had learned to be so calm, cold, and collected. Had he learned it from Alex or Wolf? "Cub's Accomplice. And I would like a word with you." He turned around in his seat leaving Bulman in the back to sweat and cower. When they got to the park they all got out and went to a bench not far from the car.
Eagle limped a little bit behind them. Tom was the only one who took a seat on the bench. He looked perfectly relaxed. Eagle stood next to him both hands resting comfortably on the top of his cane. Bulman stood in front of Tom looking like he was about to receive a stern scolding. Eagle tried to suppress laughter.
"Mr. Bulman are you aware of what printing your story could do to this country?" Eagle asked, not content to wait for Tom to form a line of thought in his ADHD head.
"Shock, disgust, sweeping change," Bulman spat. "Nothing that shouldn't have happened two years ago when Cub first showed up at Brecon Beacons. How can you live with yourself? Willingly working with a child in those conditions?"
"How can you live with yourself?" Tom snapped. "He's finally gotten out and you're going to throw him back in and put everyone he knows and loves in danger. You'll probably be the reason people start dying. But that's okay. Because you'll have awards and money and fame. So cut the crap about morals and what not. No one here believes that."
"What do plan on doing with me?" Bulman asks and he looks as if he's moments away from dropping to his knees and begging for his life, dignity be damned.
"Nothing," Eagle responded and Tom nodded along. "You can leave anytime you want."
"But what about the article?"
"Oh, that's over," Eagle responded. "See you may have friends with loose lips but I happen to know some people too. One phone call and no one will ever know you ever even existed."
Bulman's eyes widened considerably.
"Where are all the materials for your article?" Eagle asked.
"Seriously?" Bulman asked, incredulously. Tom snorted in laughter and Eagle glared at him.
"Where is his material Tom?" he asked.
"Does it really matter?" Tom shrugged and stood up. "We should go."
Bulman glared at them but Eagle paid him little heed. He was much more interested in trying to kill Tom with nothing but his piercing gaze. How did Wolf handle this kid? He was thoroughly obnoxious.
While Eagle was busy glaring at Tom Bulman was busy trying to pull something out of his jacket pocket. The ex-soldier spotted it and turned sharply. He brought up the end of his cane and swung it down on Bulman's wrist with a sickening crunch. The reporter let out a cry of pain and the taser he had tried to draw on them went scattering away into the grass.
Bulman may have been SAS once but his training obviously hadn't stuck. It was probably for the best that he had quit before he had been killed. Eagle stared at him sardonically.
"I think you broke something!" Bulman shouted at him grasping at his wrist tightly.
"Whatever," was all that Eagle could bother saying before using his cane to hobble back to the car. "Tom! Car!"
"Yes, sir," Tom mumbled and all but ran at the car. He was inside, buckled, and sunk down in his seat before Eagle could even get his hand on the door handle.
00000
When they got back to the house Jack was standing in the corridor, arms crossed, and a tight scowl on her face.
"Hi," Eagle greeted lamely. He knew he was in trouble and at this point he could only hope that he wouldn't have to sleep on the couch. "Why so grumps?" Jack's eyes narrowed and she disappeared into the living room without a word.
"I think you're in trouble," Tom supplied helpfully.
"I know," he responded.
They went into the living room to find Alex on the couch, his leg propped up on the coffee table, and an ice pack taped to his knee. Jack must have gone upstairs because she wasn't in the room. That was not a good sign for Eagle.
"What happened to you?" Tom asked, half laughing.
"Operation Amazeballs needs some work," Alex told him. "Bulman tried to tase me and I tripped over his desk chair when I dodged it. Twisted my knee."
"You were in Bulman's flat?" Eagle snapped, concerned. It was one thing to give Bulman a ride to the park and leave him there. Breaking and entering was something quite different.
"Tom texted me about Bulman and gave me the address," Alex explained. "He let me in. Thought I was there to do an interview."
"Seriously?" How thick could a person get?
"No kidding," Alex said. "But after he fell out of his window I was able to break into his computer. I think I got everything. How did your part go?"
"Good," Tom reported. "I think Eagle spooked him enough into letting it go. We'll see though. You don't think he stashed anything somewhere else?"
"No," Alex replied. "Besides, I looked at the 'evidence'. He didn't have anything concrete. That's why he needed the interviews. As long people keep their mouths shut everything should be alright."
Eagle remembered that he had a few phone calls to make in order to make sure that no one said anything to more reporters. Even reporters who had once been SAS.
"How's the knee?" Eagle asked. Alex smirked at him.
"It's not me you have to worry about," he said. "Jack is pissed that you took her car to a blackmailers flat. Especially with your leg. And in your pajamas." He looked down at himself. He still had on his sweat pants, his hair hadn't been combed, and he hadn't even put on a shirt underneath his open jacket. He was lucky to have remembered shoes. It was the medication. It was still a little strong.
Eagle sighed. Jack was having just as much trouble coming to terms with Eagle's injury as he was. It was probably worse for her considering she was the only one who actually saw and still remembered every moment of it.
"Yeah," he sighed. "I'll take care of it." He started up the stairs, slowly and slightly painfully. He was halfway up when Alex gave him a parting shot.
"I'll get the bedding for the couch!"
"Shut up, Alex!"