A/N: Wow, 63 reviews for one chapter? I LOVE YOU GUYS. I'm sorry if I didn't reply to you, I always try to reply to as many as I can, but sometimes it just isn't possible. Anyways, here's the next chapter. I can't promise that there will be regular updates on this fic because uni has shot my updating schedule to hell, but I'll do my best.

First, though, a little note about this story. I've had a few questions about timing and why Alex is now at a boarding school. It's currently about 5-6 months since The last true chapter of PPM and about 3 or 4 since the epilogue. I'm not entirely sure how the timings work out, but it's currently March/April time and Alex is 16.

In the epilogue of PPM, Alex was in boarding school, and I thought it was clear but apparently not. I realised that with Wolf still being a member of the SAS he's not going to be able to look after a kid on a day-to-day basis, and so would most likely get him a place in a decent boarding school, while still acting as his legal guardian/parental figure. Hope this clears all that up.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise. And Connor was most definitely not based on Artemis!

-o-O-o-

They were in the P.E. office. Once, it had just been a forgotten space, apparently used by older couples who wanted 'alone time', but at some point in the past, it had been converted to a cramped study, little more than a filing room with a couple of chairs shoved in one corner and a dead potted plant. A rickety desk took up most of the space, surrounded, as it was, with filing cabinets stacked high with jumbled, unfiled paperwork. P.E. teachers weren't hired for their organisational skills, after all.

The headmistress was waiting outside, but Alex had a feeling that this had more to do with the lack of space than any real respect for his privacy.

"So what's wrong?" asked Alex, his mind flashing to Wolf, his legal guardian, or a member of D-Unit, lying unconscious in a hospital bed. He swallowed nervously and looked back at Jackal.

"D-Unit and K-Unit were stationed in Iraq three weeks ago," began Jackal, awkwardly. "They went missing last week. Yesterday, Leopard, Eagle and Mole turned up." He took a deep breath. "They were dead. I'm sorry, Jaguar."

No. No, there had to be a mistake. They couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible.

Distantly, Alex was aware that he really needed to stop panicking, that his breathing was abnormally fast, bordering on hyperventilation.

No. He needed to calm down. Focus on the living, on those he could help. Mole, Leopard and Eagle were beyond his aid, now.

Firmly, he pushed the pain into that deep, dark pit where he hid everything, to only come welling up out of the darkness in dreams.

"-guar? JAG!"

"Where were their last co-ordinates?" he asked, mentally running over what he knew of Iraq in his head. He'd been stationed there three times, in the year he had been in the armed forces – twice as a regular soldier, and once with the SAS – but that didn't lead to intimate knowledge of the place as a whole.

"They were last seen heading south out of the Zagros base. Last confirmed contact was about an hour later, crossing the river."

Alex glanced up. "They were on foot?" he asked, incredulously, as he calculated average speeds in his head.

"Yeah. Couldn't risk a jeep being seen. Helicopters were to make regular sweeps, and deliver supplies, but without drawing attention to them."

"Shit," cursed Alex. "Just what the hell were they doing?"

"I don't know," said Jackal. "It was need to know only. I don't think even the commander of the base knew."

"Fuck," swore Alex, standing up and striding purposefully out of the door.

"Jaguar! Where are you going?"

"I'm getting my stuff together. You'll give me a lift to London, won't you?"

They were passing through the gym now, the team still sprinting

"What? No! Jaguar, you can't do this."

Alex snarled and span, barely giving Jackal time to react before the soldier was slammed into the wall, pinned there by an angry teenager who had never seemed more threatening.

"Oh, really?" hissed the enraged blond. "And why not, exactly? They pulled me out of hell, risking their lives and careers to do so, disobeying direct orders to do so. Do you think there is even a remote possibility I would be willing to do any less for them?"

"They're soldiers!" exclaimed Jackal. "They know the risks. They're trained for this."

"And so am I!" roared Alex. "Or did you forget that little fact? I did exactly the same training as you, Jackal! I trained for the army, I trained for the SAS, I trained with fucking Scorpia before either, not to mention my uncle grooming me for a life in MI6 – or something considerably less legal – since before I could walk. Do you seriously think that I'm not trained? That I don't know the risks?"

Alex snarled silently as Jackal failed to answer and, giving one final shove, let the man go, turning on his heel and continuing to the exit, ignoring the stares of the football team. He didn't have time for them right now.

-o-O-o-

Ten minutes later, the room he and Mark shared looked as if a bomb had gone off, and Alex had enough experience with them to know. Clothes – including his SAS uniform, that he had managed to hang on to despite his abrupt dismissal - toiletries and what little money he had had been shoved into a holdall along with a small plastic back containing the few gadgets that Smithers had given him that he had managed to salvage, and the papers confirming his identity as John Sanders.

You never knew what could come in useful.

He was about to leave, when four boys burst through the door.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Josh.

"That was fast," commented Alex, pushing passed them.

"Where the hell are you going?" yelled Mark, his eyes sweeping briefly over the trashed room before he hurried after Alex's retreating back.

"London, first off," said Alex. "I've got something that I need to take care of."

"And after London?"

"That's classified. Sorry."

"Classified, he says," exclaimed Connor, his Irish accent becoming thicker with annoyance. "Says who?"

"Says me," said Alex flatly, still not turning around.

By now he had reached the bottom of the stairs where Jackal was waiting for him, along with the nervously hovering football coach… and the headmistress.

She looked angry.

He drew to a halt in front the trio and first looked to Jackal. When the soldier stood immobile, Alex sighed and dumped his bag to the ground in preparation for whatever speech she had prepared.

"When you first came here," began the woman, looking at him with a mixture of compassion and austerity that made his skin itch, "you were a mess. You had nightmares every night. You barely ate. You couldn't stand being touched. You didn't trust anyone enough to become more than superficial friends with them. I don't know exactly what happened to break you, but I know that if you leave now, there's a very real chance that it will happen again. I realise that I cannot force you, of all people, to stay here, but I would ask that you reconsider. It is only this last month that you have really got back on your feet. Do you really want to return to that state?"

"I won't return to that state," said Alex coldly. "There is no possibility of that particular set of circumstances being repeated. But if I stay here, the chances are my closest friends and my legal guardian will most likely turn up dead and I can't let that happen."

"How do you know? What can you possibly do?"

"I'm the best," replied Alex calmly.

"Yeah, and you have an ego to match," muttered Jackal. Alex glared at him, but the soldier simply grinned.

"Glad you're not denying it any longer, at least," teased the teen, before turning back to the headmistress.

"And how do you know that it won't happen again?"

Alex's face went emotionless, the perfect poker face, as he struggled to stop lashing out at her.

"Because I have no family left to kill," said the spy, emotionlessly, before walking out.

Jackal cast one sorrowful look at the teachers and Alex's friends, all shocked-speechless.

"He'll come back," he promised. "I'll make sure of it."

Then he hurried after Alex. D-Unit would kill him if he let anything happen to the kid.

-o-O-o-

The drive to London was dull. The rain didn't let up, and the only scenery was the endless grey stretch of the motorway and muddy fields. Even the quiet drone and whine of the radio did nothing to relieve the boredom.

It seemed wrong, somehow, that his first mission in four months began like this. He simply could not sustain the anger and panic that had originally motivated him.

In its place, determination coiled, strong and certain, he would get them back, even if he had to barter his soul to the devil or, worse, MI6. It felt good to be making a difference again.

They entered the suburbs of London and Alex sat up, clicking his back with a lazy stretch.

"Where are we heading," asked Jackal, glancing across.

"Liverpool Street. I think it's time I paid a visit to some old associates of mine."

-o-O-o-

A/N: Erm, please don't kill me? Take all that enraged energy and use it to do something constructive instead… like review!

And… sorry? Did I forget to mention that the reason I did Ardent was because Eagle doesn't get much screen time in this? Sorry!