Alex listened to Radio Moscow in his room, laid on his bed. The battered transistor radio was perched on the window sill to get its patchy reception. Alex had the full run of the Dacha and its grounds. He had broken into the disused house to the rear of the guards house, easily picking the padlock, and retrieving an old radio left by the previous inhabitants. Alex had fixed it with a bit of simple rewiring, not that it picked up much. Not enough power to listen to the BBC World Service or American Forces Radio. It was now 8pm was after dinner and Alex was meant to be doing his prep, as his new tutor called homework, but the latest episode of "Journey to Mars" was due to start and Alex wanted to know what had happened to the heroic Captain Volkov after last week's cliffhanger.

The general eavesdropped at his son's door. Alexei had obtained the long awaited papers from the Federal Migration Service and Department of youth policy, care and social protection of children for the Alex, he had officially adopted the boy through the Central Court in Moscow. After six weeks no one had objected to Alex Rider's placement and adoption. Alexander Rider's residency was now permanent. Next on the agenda was citizenship and name change to Aleksandr Alexeyevich Sarov.

There was a quiet knock and Alex sat up and immediately gave the acceptance for entrance "Come in". He went to the window to switch off his only entertainment.

"I'm sorry about the Radio, but there's a really good science fiction serial on normally at this time. I miss... the cinema, TV, even music. They played a full concert of Greig and Elgar last Sunday on Radio Moscow. I wonder if they'll play any Handel, but I guess thats just too English." Alex was rambling.

Alexei looked at the set, nearly twenty years old, with a broken cover. A old Soviet set, poor quality and with only twenty mile pick up for a signal. No chance Alex had heard any details, the child more interested in entertainment than news.

"Your radio is an antique, you may keep it, but it is confiscated until monday. No arguments. I too should be punished as I have neglected your cultural education. Music is allowed, so are plays but I must find out if this Science Fiction Serial is suitable for you. I hope it is family entertainment, not outlandish, subversive or frightening. I have to admit, I prefer fact based drama and biographies myself."

"No punishment. You are a general, if my education is not well rounded it is the fault of my tutor. Valentina sticks strictly to the curriculum. I read my required plays, novels and poems. I have not elected to take music, maybe I should. I also miss sport. I liked cycling, karate and football." Alex had no fear of expressing himself now, he pushed boundaries just to test what was and was not allowed

Alexei smiled and ruffled the short fringe, the longer hair covering the signs of the head trauma suffered seven weeks previously. Valentina Galinova was the tutor, Alexei had hired. She was instructed that Alexander was to take the International Baccalaureate rather than local state exams. "Sport, ummm. I will get the guards to include you in their programme of training. You must learn to shoot, in winter you will ski everyday when we cannot run. Cross country skiing and biathlon are sports I enjoy greatly. A fuller timetable to stop boredom, Ok?"

"OK. I better finish checking over my essay."

Alex worked and Alexei sat at the desk, looking over the boy's school work. Good grades, neat work and meticulous notes in English, French, German and Russian. Alex keeping up on all his skills. Alexei knew the old gamekeepers cottage was padlocked. Alex could obviously pick locks easily.

"You must tell me all that Ian taught you. I would hate to arrange for lessons in subjects and skills you are already proficient with." Alexei wondered on the boy's skills beyond sel defense, diving, skiing and cultural adaptation.

Alex considered this request and paused his rereading of today's set works. "Ian was preparing me for the life as a deep cover espionage agent. So, I was very sporty. I can ski well, I am a black belt first dan in karate, I can swim, dive, rock climb and I used to love orienteering. I can pick locks, hide, tail a target, drive a car, pickpocket and divert attention. I could tell Blunt lied about Ian'd death and everything escalated after I found out Ian had been murdered. I ... I don't lie to you. I don't like being lied to so I try not to deceive you as common decency, but some personal stuff is difficult to confess. Like my nightmares and worries. I still hate the fact I was used so badly by Alan Blunt and Joe Byrne."

"I actually came in to discuss the finalisation of your adoption. I would like you to become my son in name as well as on paper."

Alex put down his schoolbook. "Alex Sarov? or Sasha, thats more russian." Alex then thought to the only other Russian he knew, Yassen Gregorovich, who called him little Alex. Anglicizing the diminutive Sasha.

"Sasha is a lovely name. Only for good friends and family. Aleksandr is a good strong name."

"After the King of Macedonia." Alex had read a little in classics.

"Conqueror of the known world. Also the name of many Russians. A good name."

"I am glad to be your son, Alexei... father." Alex stood and realised he now had what he had always wanted, a proper parent, unconditional love and an attentive father, who loved him despite his many problems and faults.

"Good night son. Sweet dreams, beautiful boy."

Alexei sat and read, just a single light on in his room, across the hall from his son's room. He had good gearing and could hear mumbling and then groans. He stole into Alex... Sasha's Room. The boy was covered in sweat, shivering and upset, still deep asleep and trapped in a nightmare.

Alex sat bolt up right, the cry of "Papa!" on his lips. He dreamt of being alone. Of being robbed of comfort, stability and a home. His fears of life post-Ian's death were deeply ingrained. He saw his father in his dark blue pajamas stood in the doorway with the dim light behind him. Alex threw off the twist of covers and ran forward to hug his new father. "I dreamt they stole me away from you, took me back to England, to lose you." Alex sobbed at his raw dream. The shadows of Wolf, Blunt and Jones taunting him that he was unloved and unloveable. Good agents were cold, unemotional and alone. Ian had acted like he was alone even with his brother's son to look after.

"Come sleep in the spare bed in my room. I was reading anyway. I can watch over you. No one shall take you away from me, lovely boy. No one objected to your adoption. You are here legally. You belong here. No worries about your past, not here, not now." Sarov had not changed his sleeping quarters since his divorce. He and his wife had slept in separate, twin beds. Easier with his habit on four hours of sleep and reading into the early hours. He settled the boy into the other bed, which was always made up, linen changed every week. He had not taken another lover, he had not even considered it. He had all the family he needed now, he had a son and heir. His legacy was this bright and talented boy. This child had already saved him from his own demons.