Alex lazed in the warm low sun on a blanket spread on the ground outside Yassen's shack. Alex refused to call it a villa. Yassen came outside and sat next to his young lover. They had relaxed for six wonderful days. Yassen had worked with Alex like a possessed physical therapy instructor. His plan was to push Alex's very comfortable boundaries. They had hiked and gone potholing, rock climbing. Alex had found things easier without his prosthetics.
Alex looked at Yassen and stated "I don't want to leave you."
"I don't want you to go, but soon I will work again and I cannot endanger you in my world. My enemies would use you against me." Yassen invited Alex into a hug.
"I know. MI6 would jump at the chance of destroying you as well." Alex was deadly honest "I would rather die than betray you, Yassen."
Yassen stroked the young man's hair. Alex clung to the russian. Then Yassen slowly stripped the younger man, slow savouring of all that was Alex. Yassen wanted to keep Alex for himself, but Alex was too fragile at the moment. He needed to mend his relationship with Tony. If anyone deserved family it was Alex.
Yassen had put him on the TGV at Nice and had then kissed Alex softly and tenderly, whispering farewells in russian in the younger man's ear. Old and new lovers and the promise of future lovers as well. Alex was confused by Yassen, but he was lying to himself if he ever thought he would openly defy him.
"Safe Journey, Little One". Yassen said after one last kiss.
"And you, beloved" Alex said to the retreating figure.
Alex hated Airport security. At least arrivals were better than departures with the 'Take off your bloody shoes'. Ha! Off came two prosthetic legs as Alex hobbled through the metal detector. The security staff loosing a bit of composure. At least one if them carried his prosthetics over for him for him to put them back on. Alex could feel the eyes of the other passengers on his back as he strode through to the departure gate, ignoring the airport ground crew who asked if he needed a ride or a fucking wheelchair.
Tony waited in arrivals for Air France flight from Paris to land. He'd contacted a therapist recommended by his friend Ian. Alex had sounded rung out and far too emotional for the quiet controlled young man Tony had left in July. What the fuck had Alex been up to? Where had he been and who had he been staying with? Tony was seriously worried.