In two weeks since his return from Hong Kong, Alex had gone from happy to a complete mess. The probationary agent had compiled a file detailing the kid's descent. "His apartment has been rented out to a pair of ballerinas. Still part furnished, others items are in storage, a container at the place by the airport. We found Makarov's car in Manly, looks like he's been living in it for a couple of weeks. His ex-boyfriend has a warrant out for his arrest. He skipped out on a flight to Malaysia on the 6th. He was an instructor at the Dance Academy and was in a relationship with one of his pupils. The kid's parents are well connected and are pushing for a custodial sentence even if he pleads guilty. The kid broke down during his police interview and said he was sorry and he hoped Sasha was getting decent psychiatric help, that he had threaten to kill himself. He never thought he was hurting anyone."

Damon had spoken to the hospital, to arrange for a transfer to the clinic the department used, considering Alex let slip about Skeleton Key to the lifeguards. If Alex was losing his grip and blurting out sensitive material it was best if he was somewhere safe and controlled.

….

Marc Damon arrived at work on Monday and Kat Belman was waiting for him. "Your boy agent is a mess. He is in full disassociation. Fugue amnesia. He's cut out twelve years of hurt and pain and thinks he's 15. Kind of strange with him looking at me with those shy, lustful glances. Whatever happened after Cairo really fucked him up. Why did he refuse therapy when you offered?"

Marc sat down and buzzed his assistant requesting coffee for two. "Alex knows shrinks we approve write reports for us. He can't talk to non-approved medical personnel and well, he does not trust us as far as he could throw us and by us I mean the whole, global intelligence community. He said he'd ask for help if things got bad, but it looks like he thought running and sleeping rough was coping." The Australian genuinely smiled when his coffee arrived. "I need this. I had the dubious pleasure of informing the Board of the Opera House their star turn was nutty as a fruit cake. I'm waiting for a return of the messages I left for the Stravenkov's and his hellion agent."

Kat then stood up to leave, "I'll keep you in the loop, but Alex might never find his way back from this. Oh, by the way… his trip to hospital made the morning news. Small item, luckily the journalists thought it was a surfing accident."

…

"Alexander, do you know where you are?"

"Err… hospital?"

"The date and location?"

"I guess San Francisco and beginning of September 2002. Sorry, its all a bit fuzzy. Tell Edward and Liz I'm sorry I skipped school. It was just getting to me. I felt everyone was staring, judging me. I know I'm a freak but they were all so fucking nasty about it." Alex rubbed his face, he had stubble, which was weird. "I ran because the jocks on the football team cornered me after school. I knew how to kill them with my bare hands, how to get rid of the bodies with no one seeing and how to get myself a half decent alibi. I'm a fifteen year old kid, who the fuck normally thinks like that, so off I went to be abnormal on my own, alone not hurting anyone or making people who care targets." Alex left off for good and bad guys alike.

…

Luci was looking through lists of flights, only the prices were prohibitive as she tried, in vain, to get a better deal. She picked up her mobile when it rang after one ring, expecting it to be Ludmilla, Vladimir or her father.

"Hello, Mrs Stravenkov. We have never met, but I'm an old friend of Alexander's. My name is Paul Roscoe, Alex and I went to school together in France; Point Blanc Academy in Grenoble, when we were 14. I owe him more than I can repay and I have heard he's had a mental breakdown. I'm offering you full use of my company jet and my home in Sydney, a car and a personal assistant for your time there, while Alex gets better. I know its hard, but I can even organise a nanny and tutors if you want to take your children with you."

"Thank you, I was planning on flying over tomorrow, but if you can organise it sooner that would help immensely. Poor Sasha, he's been so quiet lately. Not even returning Pyotr's messages." Luci could not help but start to cry. "I'm sorry, I should have said something but I never liked that Darius, but Sasha looked at him like he was his whole world. He always looking for love after his horrible childhood, but keeps picking guys just like his bastard uncle."

"My assistant will be there within the hour with an itinerary. She has all my details, I'm afraid I can't help personally as I'm in Berne at the moment and I have full diary, but I hope to catch up with Al when he gets back to New York."

Luci sat back and rubbed her face. Paul Roscoe, Chairman and majority shareholder or Roscoe Industries and Roscoe Communications. Sasha had mentioned boarding school, but never Paul personally. This man was willing to throw money around to help an old school friend's very unofficial family. This type of generosity did not make sense, but she was not going to refuse. She then phoned her husband, who was on tour with his dance company in California.

"All sorted, love. A friend of Sasha's has offered his private jet and his home in Sydney. Paul Roscoe of all people. So, I'll take Nina with me and my dad's coming over to supervise Grishka and Pyotr. Hopefully this time next week, Sasha will be back home and resting." Luci knew she was being extremely over optimistic. The prognosis from the clinic had been heartbreaking in its pessimism. Sasha had managed his mental health so strictly with meal plans, structured outreach activities and a holistic approach with life goals. She had to steel herself for the fact her cuckoo may have been replaced by a complete stranger.

….

"Hi, I'm Dr. Chandra, Please call me Lev….Thanks for visiting Alexander. He's settled in, Just to warn you he has amnesia, a rare complication of disassociation after a breakdown. He thinks he's 15, so don't be upset if he does not recognise or acknowledge you. Otherwise, he's charming, helpful and responding well in sessions and group. Your visits will be fully supervised as Alex needs boundaries concerning some long term security issues. He has been blurting inappropriate facts and we don't want to shock you. So, if you'll sign theses disclaimers, I'll show you through to our secure unit."

"Al, this is Martika Lopez and Clara Bryant, they've popped in to say hi and to see how you are doing."

Alex was sat in a small square of green grass surrounded by eight foot high security fencing, on a plastic picnic chair. Two more chairs were produced for the visitors.

"Err, hi, I guess you're friends of Jacks. I'm Alex, she looked after me.. well, was the housekeeper originally. I'm sorry for your loss. I miss her immensely."

Clara smiled looking confused "How's the food? Last time I was in hospital it was atrocious."

Her friend smiled and reassured her "It's OK here they let me eat sandwiches and cereal, the good full sugar stuff. I don't like cooked food much. No pizza here though or burgers, they're my favourite. Especially Whoppers with cheese and onion rings. My foster parents are a bit healthy, so I haven't eaten junk since leaving Chelsea."

Rather than lie, the older woman smiled and kept the conversation light, choosing to talk in spanish, hoping that would help Alex remember. "I am director of the Ballet Company. Graeme at the Royal Ballet sends his regards."

Alex looked like he had been kicked, "I can't talk about dancing. It's not allowed. They'll find out." He then stood up and went to the nurse. "I want to lie down. I feel sick."

Clara kept silent until she arrived at rehearsals and took one look at Scott and Mitchell and burst into tears. Martika then spoke to all of Sasha's friends and co-workers. "Aleksandr has had a full mental breakdown, and has suffered complications due to his disassociative identity disorder. The psychiastrist called it fugue amnesia and Sasha has reverted to a safe timescale, forgetting any subsequent traumatic experiences. He currently thinks its 2002 and that he is 15 and still living in California. He was extremely distressed when we brought up dancing. For such an extreme negative reaction, I cannot think what his uncle did to him to not even want discuss the subject. That man must have been beastly to a lovely boy." Martika took a deep breath to control her emotions. "If you visit, he will not recognise you and he is not the man we know and love, but the repressed and sad child he was before he ran away. I could tell he was acting with a façade in place of a normal teenage boy. I need to ring Graeme and Vladimir now. Maybe even Director Titov. I wish I had good news, but the psychiatrist stated he could bounce back tomorrow or be stuck in his delusion forever. This type of amnesia is not correctable with drugs and therapy is of no appreciable help. It' s up to Sasha to find his way back."

….

Nina clung to her mommy's hand. This place smelled funny. Her mommy was ignoring her and talking to the strange man. She looked through the open door and smiled to herself. Sasha was here. He was sick and needed cheering up. The six year old moved silently along the corridor. A nurse in nice purple scrubs smiled and already knew this was a visitor for Alex.

"Hi, Nina, isn't it? I'm Theresa. I guess you want to see Alexander?"

"Only Pyotr calls Sasha that. He hates it. It makes him scowl like this." The Nina pulled an angry face. "I have some chocolate for him. They took our cake off us at the airport. It wasn't allowed, probably cause Pyotr cooked it." The little girl then showed off the large bag of peanut M&Ms, her favourites as well because Sasha normally let her eat all of the coloured ones while he stuck to the yucky brown ones.

"Come I'll take you to his room. I'll stick round for M&Ms as well."

Alex had moved from high to low security, which was still secured by two locked doors and a check point. He was supervised but could walk around to meals and the bathroom by himself. He shared his room with a large army type, of Samoan extraction. He was reading a copy of the Count of Monte Christo and had the impression he'd already read it, but knew he hadn't. A tiny ball of energy jumped on his bed to hug him with a scream of "I missed you, Sasha!"

Alex remembered the smell of this child's hair. The fact she liked strawberries but not bananas. She wanted to be a ballerina like her mommy and could already beat Gregori in a fight, by playing dirty. "Nina? What are you doing in Sydney? Aren't you still in school?"

Then he remembered everything and his hand went to his neck. At that Nina copied him and touched the bandage softly. "Ouch" and then moved to kiss it softly, "All better, now you can come home. Mommy told me you're coming back to New York, no arguments. You need to rest and watch TV and not get hurt again. Even Grandpa says you should come home and he thinks you're weird."

….

Lucky Marianas worked for Ramon Cortez. He normally arranged transport for raw materials from the Far East back to Europe and America. Today he was looking for an Australian, one who liked kids, but not in a nice way. Lucky was a father of three, divorced but he made sure his kids were provided for and enjoyed their four weeks with him a year, so they still called him papa and rang every week. Ramon had asked him to be creative with this Australian, which meant not just beat him to death and leave him for the rats to eat.

Jails in Malaysia were grim. Open pens with no real protection. They even had the death penalty.

He picked out three kilos of product to plant on the guy who was going to India on the morning flight. The raw product worth less than three grand here but a hundred times that, when refined and cut down, on the street in London or Paris, New York or LA. He then called in the concealment to his contact at the airport. This would keep the customs seizures up and he would not lose the real courier taking the flight to Athens.