A.N.: Been a reeeally long time since my last chapter. I'm sorry about that. Kinda just lost track. This chapter's fairly short, will try to balance the three stories but still have to add life to the equation so ehh yeah, updates will be slow.

"Dean," Alex finally snapped rudely as Wolf got up for the seventh time in the past hour to pace, his boots probably already made a reasonably sized trench on the wooden floor, "For heaven's sake, just sit down and do your zen thing."

"That man," Realizing his voice was a four notches higher than allowed, Wolf took a deep breath to compose himself, "That Anthony Evans, assistant to the inspector-"

"Was the same man that told you about my whereabouts and rescued me heroically from the plane," Alex finished it for the agitated soldier. Agitated seemed to be the wrong word. Volcanic was more like it. He could feel the heated tense energy vibrating in the room, threatening to bring the whole dorm down, "I know, you've said that already."

"He might have a wig," Wolf blundered on, his pacing growing erratic with pauses, "A lower voice, but I can recognize his face. And I know he recognized me as well."

Alex turned toward the ex-soldier with a weary sigh, wondering about the fuse of the bomb the man had on his head. Anytime now, "He saved me. That's all I care about right now. If he meant any harm, we'd be dead right now."

Wolf abruptly, finally thank god, stopped pacing and turned to him, "Do you think he knew about us? Our mission?"

"Even if he did, they knew better than to question us," Alex said, "Let's just keep our heads down, alright?"

He felt the man's stare, "What?"

"Sometimes," Wolf sat down somewhere by the tables, "I do wonder if you know who's the eldest in the room."

"I do," Alex was confused, "And right now, that's you."

"Exactly," Using the tone of a typical ELI5 procedure, Wolf said, "Which is why I give the orders, and you follow."

Alex snorted.

"Something funny?"

He shook his head, the smile still lingered as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the pain and burden building up today slowly ebbing away into oblivion that was the world. Sometimes, he swore he could see florescent lights behind his eyelids. They were floating. Just floating, nothing more, in reassurance. Other times, he was at a park. A grass field. The grass shivered as the wind blew, but he felt nothing.

They were just dreams.

And he missed darkness.

"So you still planning to do the whole archery thing?" He could sense Wolf's hands moving in fuzzy gestures that formed no particular shapes.

Alex nodded, "Yeah," Then he grinned, "You should try out the choir. Perhaps your powerful voice can shatter glass with the right training."

Wolf didn't find that funny at all while Alex was unsuccessfully trying to hide his chuckles. The soldier had a large chip on his shoulder that forbids anyone to even consider snickering at his expense, much less laughing, or talking behind his back: something that Eagle seemed to have taken up as his part-time job back at camp.

"If you get impaled…" Then the man rounded the circle again, dragging them to exactly where they had started earlier in the day.

"You're not going to care," Alex nodded as he paraphrased, cleaning up the foul language that Wolf had used in the presence of sixteen years old, "I know, don't worry. I've got funeral coverage. Insurance and whatnot. I'm completely covered."

"...Right," When they both fell into a semi-awkward silence, Wolf began to leaf through his assignments.

The pages fluttered and so did a pen as the man hastily scrawled-Alex was very sure the man was scrawling instead of actually writing in neat prints-his answers on a different piece of paper like a diligent student. Minus the diligent and the student part.

Alex plopped himself down on the spare chair after navigating from the bed and turned toward the table where he had placed his earbuds and playback device connected to the one in the classroom. There were times when he wished he was able to focus in class but, this time like any other times, he seemed to find the dragonfly outside the window more fascinating than the lecture.

"Finally studying?" Wolf snorted.

Alex shot him a glance as accurately as possible, "You doing any better?"

"John Locke," The man tossed it out.

"Blank slate," He had been to school, Alex would have Wolf know, "tabula rasa."

That shut the man up and not wanting to push the chip on the man's shoulder even further, Alex plugged his earbuds in and clicked play, letting his head dropped onto the table, his forehead against his folded arm and closed his eyes.

The lights remained.

"...Open your textbook to page 452. Today, we're going to cover…" The recorded voice smoothed over and the sound of textbook rustling was heard. Undoubtedly, Alex found himself drifting off. He fought it. He felt as if his elbows were slipping on the smooth wooden table, but he knew they were not. His eyes felt heavy, heavier than they already were, and his shoulder blades moved as he shifted, trying to rouse himself before he could fall asleep.

Before Wolf of all person.

"...many still believe that…"

Anthony Evans. Nobody's name was ever so, well, plain, of anything. It felt like the addition of two names from an online name generator. Then he remembered the kid back in high school. What was his name? Bob Thomson. Maybe people were just simple and plain like that.

"...The Pythagorean theorem was..."

Wolf said he recognized the man as his savior. Perhaps Anthony Evans was an alias? Or perhaps they were both thinking too hard into it when the truth was right in front of them. The ex-soldier had said Evans was someone who he could 'hardly trust', shady for starters, and a rather cold-hearted bastard. But it seemed as if Evans was protecting Alex, that he seemed to care about him.

"...Excuse the interruption. I'm Inspector Chevalier…"

"...John? No…" The man in the recording's sharp intake of breath rattled the recording, "Alex…"

He jerked up, his hand seizing the playback device like a madman. Wolf eyed the commotion, "Got stung by a fly?"

"Flies don't sting," Alex shot the man an ungrateful glance as he rewound the tape. Fifteen seconds.

"Excuse the interruption," That was the inspector, "I'm Inspector Chevalier. I'm here regarding an ongoing police investigation."

In the background, the student's chattering slowly died away until it was no more than hushed whispers with the 's' cutting straight across the room. The lack of visual reference in the recording did not hinder his mental image instead, with his blindness settling over in reassurance, he could imagine a better visual.

Alex could see from the vantage point of his recorder. The door, swung wide open, was to his left. The inspector paused, his eyes must have roamed the room for a moment and then Alex could feel the hesitation, surprise, and perhaps pure genuine shock, flicker in the span of two seconds.

"...John?" It was more than a hesitant statement, "No…Alex…"

"Something wrong?" That was Evans. His voice sounded faintly familiar but he still couldn't place a finger on it. Must have been when he was unconscious, maybe his brain registered his voice.

"Pass me the list of names," The inspector said. Ruffling of paper was heard then a clipboard was handed over. A page was turned. Then another. Then both pages settled back down in confusion. The man seemed not to have found what he was looking for.

But Alex had a very good idea what it was.

His name. Alex Rider.

The inspector knew. And he knew his father too. His father died shortly after he was born, for someone to even know about him and his father at such intimate level, no one came immediately to mind. Of course, there were Ian and Yassen, but in their post-mortal state, Alex had no doubt it wasn't them.

Then who? Who could have the knowledge of his father and him? Who was Inspector Chevalier? Chevalier. Ian Chevalier. Coincidence, Alex told himself.

"Something bothering you?" Wolf's undisguised skepticism and amusement rudely pulled him out of his reverie, "You're doing that thing where your face turns a shade of purple."

Alex's eye twitched, "Dean, joke isn't your thing. Besides, me turning purple can only mean one thing. Heart disease. Heart attack. Something relating to the heart. And honestly, I am sure I'm perfectly healthy at the moment."

"Yeah?"

"Are you showing concern for me?" Lifted tone, a pitch higher than normal that strained his vocal cords, and the faintest cooing face did the trick and Wolf grunted in what Alex would call defeat but 'not wasting time and energy with Eagle's clones' in Wolf's encyclopedia.

They settled back in the diligent student silence, Alex minding his own business and thinking Wolf was doing the same when the man abruptly stood and began pacing around the room. Alex paused the recording once again and arched an eyebrow, his unseeing eyes following Wolf's footsteps questioningly.

"Something you ate?"

"Be quiet for a moment, would you?"

Alex complied and he led Wolf to his pacing, listening to the rhythmical gait and trying to determine what was the source of it. The wish of no further disruption was ephemeral was something blared quietly in alarm. He tensed. They both did as Wolf quickly shut it off and his pacing stopped.

"Audio?" Alex's voice was casual.

"Can't say," He could hear the frown, "I'd say both."

Great.

"Let's grab dinner," Alex decided, standing up and placing the device and the wires into his pocket before grabbing his coat by the back of his chair.

Wolf agreed without a moment of hesitation and soon they were out the door, the wooden barrier clicked shut behind them and they were out of the frame of the camera in the room.

The leader placed his chin on his laced hands, his eyes never leaving the empty dormitory that the two brothers had just exited.

"They saw the camera," He concluded, leaning back and letting his hands rest on the armrest. The back tipped in his weight but he didn't allow himself to relax.

The woman frowned, "They did not look at it. How could you know?"

"Some sort alarm was sound," The leader explained, "The younger brother reacted to a noise. I'm sure of it. They left because they found out about the camera. It isn't a coincidence."

"What are you thinking about?" The youngest of them all was sat crossed-leg on the sofa, away from the conference table where the rest were seated.

"A bug sweeper."

"Why would they carry a bug sweeper with them?" The man on the opposite side of the table as the woman said.

"Perhaps," Robert shrugged easily, "They're undercover. You know? Like ninjas."

"Ninjas?" The absurdity of the suggestion was lost on none of them but at the same time, they held on to the idea of undercover.

"Maybe they're policemen," Robert caught himself, nearly having another heated argument with the other adults about the possibility of ninjas in the UK.

"The younger one," The leader shook his head, "He's too young to be a policeman."

The woman frowned, "His information put him as twenty years old. That's old enough to be a policeman."

"He can't be more than seventeen," The man arched an eyebrow, "He doesn't look twenty no matter how you put it."

"All right," The leader leaned forward, "Heatherson, I want you to run a background check on both of them. Severstine, go down to the station, see if the inspector needs any help. Robert, continue watching the younger brother."

"You've got it, Troy," Robert said, leaping to his feet and ready to make for the door for dinner.

Troy stopped him, "Do whatever it takes to get Feighton. Separate him from the older brother. I don't care about the older brother."

"Gotcha!" As Robert paused by the door, he turned, the warm smile still on his face as he asked innocently, "Should I kill him?"

"No," Then, "Not yet."

They were having breakfast in the cafeteria when Robert appeared, his hair ruffled after bed and his shirt wrinkled and uneven but his face brightened up upon seeing them. Wolf didn't like the boy.

"Hey Feigh, hullo, Dean," Robert's warm voice made Alex turn his head, a small smile gracing his lips as the young man probably sense the incoming presence long before an arm was thrown across his shoulder and Robert slid into the chair adjacent to Alex's, "Hmm, sandwiches. Feigh, can you taste how many ingredients there are?"

Alex, without a moment of hesitation, complied to the ridiculous request, "There's bread, turkey, cheese," His partner frowned, chewing thoughtfully, and rather comically too but Wolf would never voice that out-loud, "Lettuce and more cheese."

Robert reached over and plucked one of the cherry tomatoes from Alex's plate, "You forgot onion."

"I know," Alex chuckled, "I gave it to Dean. It's no longer part of my sandwich. Dean's very helpful in eating onions."

Robert turned toward Wolf's sandwich, visibly a layer higher due to Alex's unwanted onions that Wolf had no idea why he had agreed to help. He regretted that decision now, "Big brother's so nice."

The comment was laced with cloying honey but Wolf merely grunted, "If little brother can start eating his own vegetables, pigs will fly."

"Oh yeah?" Alex set down his sandwich and wiped his mouth with the napkin, "I'll show you a flying pig."

Robert's eyes brightened and he leaned in, completed with mock seriousness, "So earlier last year, I went to a farm."

They could both see where this was going.

"And I saw a pig," Robert grinned, "And it was flying."

"There," Alex said, grabbing the absurd statement without a second thought, "See, that's enough proof. Little brother does eat his own vegetables."

Wolf rolled his eyes as he set down his own sandwich and grabbed a fork, lifting the ring of onion from the top and landed the fork to Alex. The transition was smooth and flawless and Wolf almost smiled at the amazing adaptability the spy had shown to his blindness.

Alex opened his mouth and dramatically dropped the onion into his mouth. His expression turned from smugness to surprise then grossness as his tongue and mouth finally register the onion and its stinging taste. Robert laughed as Alex grabbed madly for his cup, nearly choking in the water as he desperately tried to drown out the taste.

Wolf smiled in victory, "You were saying?"

"This is murder!" Alex flapped a hand before his mouth as he tried to enunciate his words, " I told you I hate onions!"

"Don't be childish," Wolf generously took another fork and picked out the rest of his onions from his sandwich and placed it graciously in Alex's plate, completely enjoying the moment, "Here, have some more. Onions are good."

The precision of Alex's glare could easily laser-beam him into oblivion, "Thank you so much."

"Don't worry, Feigh," Robert said as he took Alex's plate and began chewing on the onions, "I'll share your pain."

Alex smiled then glared at Wolf, "See, Dean? That's what good relationship is supposed to look like."

"He's making you soft."

"Speaking of which," Before Alex could retort, Robert butted in, "Do you wanna check out archery with me today?"

"You're joining?" Alex's voice was full of surprise.

"Just want to check it out," Robert shrugged, giving Wolf a quick glance, "Dean, wanna join us?"

He really wouldn't. But with Robert there, he was having second thoughts. Some lonely boy just happened to meet Alex first day of school. Robert didn't look like he was bullied but somehow, Alex seemed to have taken the idea that Robert was the victim of some sort of school-wide bully. Sometimes, Wolf thought he saw mixed emotions in other students' eyes regarding Robert.

It wasn't condescension nor was it laughter.

It was fear.

And it unsettled him.

"I will g-" Wolf started but Alex rolled his eyes accompanying his interruption, "Dean doesn't like archery. Asking him to come is like dragging a century-old statue stuck-fast to the ground."

Robert grinned, "You sure, Dean? It can be fun."

Alex's eyes dared him to interfere with his investigation, "I'm good. Like Feigh said, I'm not a fan of archery."

"All right then," Robert clapped him on the shoulder, "I'll see you after school today?"

"See you," Alex smiled as his temporary companion left with one final wave, "He's pretty nice, isn't he? Kinda sad that he doesn't belong anywhere. Reminded me of one of my old friends."

"I doubt that," Wolf muttered.

"What?" Alex blinked, missing the softly uttered words.

"Nothing," He shook his head as he glanced at Alex who had picked up his sandwich again, "You know, I can come with you to archery."

"You don't believe that I can do it," Alex sounded faintly angry.

Wolf shook his head, "It's not that. I'm just not sure it's wise."

He expected Alex to shoot back, to get angry, to do anything except what happened next. Alex closed his eyes and sighed. When they opened again, there was resignation written all over his feature, "I get it, Dean. I do. But trust me, this is for the best."

"What do you mean?"

Alex winked rather childishly, "You will see. Now, take your onions back. I hate them."

"No way. I hate them too."