It started when Alex offered Mrs Jones a plaster. She had given herself a paper cut as she handed over some folders, and seeing her stick her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding gave Alex the heebie-jeebies. Didn't she know how unsanitary that was?

He had given her a plaster immediately, wrapping it firmly around the cut. Ian had always encouraged him to be prepared , and a medi-kit at the bottom of his school bag was far from the weirdest thing that he carried around.

"I didn't know you knew First Aid, Alex!" She said, looking surprised, "Is this something you've had training in?"

"Ian made sure I knew the essentials." Alex admitted, "We used to go hiking out in the middle of nowhere. You need to be able to get yourself back to civilisation when the worst happens."

"That's a really useful skill," Mrs Jones said, "I'll have to update your agent file."

"Sure." Alex said. "Why not?"

He hadn't thought anything of it. Not until he got to Brecons, that was, at which point he was sat down by his unit and interrogated closely on his medical knowledge.

Even that wasn't unusual - rapidfire questioning was Ian's normal teaching method, and Alex was always happy to rise to the challenge - and he enjoyed learning.

How to deal with a snakebite? He'd actually had to do that once when he went on holiday with Ian to Australia. Ian had taken a wrong step and three seconds later was screaming in agony on the ground. He'd managed to kill the snake, thankfully, but it had fallen to Alex to make sure that Ian made it back to the hotel. And the hospital. And then the UK.

Different kinds of injuries from weapons and training were also something Alex had personal experience of. Sprains, strains, pulled muscles. He knew how to handle them. He'd noticed one of the guys writing down some of the solutions in a little black book too - "for future reference" he'd been told. Which made him happy. He didn't like the feeling of being useless, and if this is what it took to be useful…

Of course, his training had never included gunshot wounds. Ian hadn't thought to go that far. So the interrogation wasn't a completely one-sided process. Alex learnt something new.

The comment at the end of the interrogation should probably have caught his comment a bit more than it did then.

"They really didn't exaggerate in his files then, did they? Kid knows his stuff. I'd let him patch me up."

And sure enough, when they were out in the Lake District, Wolf let Alex brace his ankle after a nasty tumble down the side of a hill. Alex didn't notice then, but his file got an update. Again.

His time at SCORPIA was also interesting. Dr Three took a keen interest in his progress, especially in the anatomical classes. The guy was weird, so Alex didn't necessarily think much of it, until he got held back one day after class, "I understand you have a keen interest in medicine, Alex."

"I do?"

"Your training group at Brecon Beacons were most complimentary about your skills." The emotionless, waxen face was creeping Alex out, "I would like to help you develop your skills more."

"How would you like to do that?" Alex asked, suspicious of the man's motivations. He had little interest in learning how to break a man apart using nothing but his bare hands and a knife, "You know I'm not fond of tortu-"

"Oh no!" Dr Three said, suddenly clearly horrified, "I trained to be a doctor for many years. I am simply offering you some more mentorship on the nuances of medical care!"

Well, that didn't sound too bad.

And, it turned out, Dr Three was a passionate lecturer when the topic wasn't torture and there wasn't a live victim on the table. Alex learnt a lot about disease management. Preventing outbreaks of virulent diseases. Rationing drugs.. The man was disturbed, but brilliant.

Their odd little arrangement lasted until he left SCORPIA. No one else ever seemed to know, not even MI6. They accepted that Dr Three had taken a special interest and presumed they didn't want to know. Alex didn't know if that was good or bad, but was quietly pleased to not have to try to explain it.

Then he opened his big fat mouth on assignment twelve months later, when a jungle mission went wrong and the SAS was sent in to save him.

"No, we need to spread out the malaria tablets we have amongst everyone. We'll run out, but that's better than having a couple of people with malaria. We might be able to find more too - it's the kind of thing that the targets are likely to have. Probably not the same brand as us, but I know the major brands. You get the targets, I'll check for enough medical supplies to get us home."

There was a sudden silence as the entire squadron of elite, veteran soldiers looked at the fifteen year-old in the middle of them.

"Is there anything you don't know?" Snake asked with a shake of his head, "I mean, you're not wrong, but just… how ?"

"SCORPIA believes that it's operatives should be well prepared for any eventuality."

"Including one of your supply drops going amiss in the middle of a jungle?"

"Yes."

"Requiring you to scavenge anti-malarial tablets off of the land?"

"Yes?"

"To the point at which they train you in what they look like even in countries that you've never been in before?"

"Well I know what they looked like in countries I had been in before," Alex defended himself, "It only made sense that he would focus on the other ones."

Snake threw his hands up in the air, before spinning around to wander back towards where his hammock was slung between two branches.

Wolf looked after him for a second before wheeling back to Alex and pointing a finger at him, "This is going in your file, Cub!"

Well, that couldn't possibly go wrong.

The real issues, therefore, started shortly after he got back to London after that particular shitshow was cleared up. Clearly, someone had taken a look at exactly what SCORPIA had been teaching him, and Dr Three's reputation for only picking on the most gifted of students preceded him.

In hindsight, this was probably when Alex was doo- His phone rang.

"Oh, hey Alex, great to talk to you again, long time, no see. Now one of my kids has got a vomiting virus and I just want to know wh-"

His phone rang.

"Cub! You lucky bastard! I haven't seen you since Brazil! Look, I had a bit of an accident. Is it better to use black thread or white thread for my stitches? My girlfriend only has those two and pink and I refuse to wear pi- You want me to go to a hospital ? But what ab-"

His phone rang.

"Look, my doctor says that I have to rest my ankle for six weeks , but you can sign off on getting me back into active duty faster than that right? I spoke to Wolf, and Wolf tells me you're a cool kid. I'll buy you a PlayStation?"

Alex facepalmed.

"You realise that I'm not a trained doctor?"

"You're a trained field medic!"

"Says who?"

"Look, we've all seen your file. You drive a hard bargain. A PlayStation and an icecream."

"If your ankle needs rest, it needs rest." Alex cautioned, "You can't just go haring off around the world on a twisted ankle. You could cause permanent damage."

"That's what the other one said. I just want to go to lasertag on Saturday."

Alex paused for a second, picking his words carefully. "You realise that you don't have to be on active duty to play Lasertag?"

There was a moment of silence, the hum of the phone line the only thing that he could hear.

Then the complete stranger on the other end let out a woop of joy, "You're fucking amazing kid. I'm going to tell all my friends."

"Please don-"

There was a click, and the phone went dead. Alex stared at it in slight horror. What the fuck ?

Three days later, a new playstation arrived.

Alex was not sure whether to accept the blatant bribery. Or rather, he was going to accept the blatant bribery, but he wasn't sure about whether this was setting a really bad precedent for the future. But, on the other hand, how bad could it get?

The doorbell rang, with the kind of dramatic timing that made Alex curse tempting fate even in the privacy of his head.

Cautiously, Alex opened the door, to find Wolf leaning against the doorframe, a hand pressed against his side, where there was clearly a bullethole leaking blood .

"Hey Cub."

"Wolf. What the fuck?"

"I need someone to pull this bullet out. Would you mind?"

Alex looked at the older man incredulously, "You're a seasoned member of the SAS, with access to the best healthcare the government will pay for, and the NHS, and you've knocked on my door instead of going two streets further to the hospital?"

"Actually I walked past the hospital." Wolf staggered inside, "I wasn't going to take substandard shit when the real doctor was so close."

Alex bit back a hysterical laugh.

"Where do you want me?" the man asked, looking at the dining table, "That's real wood. Don't wanna stain it. Kitchen table?"

Which was how Alex found himself pulling a literal bullet from the still breathing body of his friend, cleaning, dressing and binding the wound, and recommending he take some painkillers. And no, he couldn't give them a prescription because he wasn't a doctor .

"Huh," said Wolf, "We can probably get that fixed."

Alex had no idea what to do when the first email arrived inviting him on a course to become a qualified health professional. Well, he had several ideas. And a few more complaints. Mrs Jones shut them all down with a withering look and a comment that, "It couldn't be that hard really, given your past training, Alex. Just get the qualifications. We're paying for it all."

And indeed they were. Several thousand pounds and then some. And at the end of it, he would be legally certified to prescribe drugs. That was a genuinely terrifying prospect. Alex made a note to make sure he did so as little as possible.

It was only three weeks into the six-month course that Alex realised he hadn't even asked Wolf how he got shot.

That it seemed so normal to have a guy show up on his doorstep and ask for help that he hadn't even asked why the help was needed in the first place.

How did you get a gunshot wound in the middle of London?

Alex's hand twitched towards his phone, intending to text the man, only to pause. Did he really want to know?

That was probably the second stage of doom.

Thankfully, even at the age of 16 they hadn't managed to convince him to drop Brooklands yet. Even with "alternative education provision" he was clinging fiercely and stubbornly to the concept of taking some A-levels and having a normal life at some point . If he wanted to do A-Level Drama then he should be allowed to take A-level Drama goddamnit.

Which, unfortunately, was how he found himself cornered by Tom and the latest girl that Tom had picked up from somewhere. He was in that phase of doing many somethings to many someones. At least, Alex had been told that it was a phase. Not one that he was going to go through ever, but apparently one which was surprisingly common.

"You can prescribe drugs right, Alex?"

" Technically , I guess."

"Could you technically prescribe The Pill?" The girl asked, blushing fiercely, "It's just I'm so embarrassed about going to a normal doctor tha-"

"You can literally walk into a pharmacy and buy it over the counter." Alex cut them off flatly, "No requirements. You just… walk in and buy it."

"But I thought tha-"

"Please, just, no?"

"And do I have to like … stick it in there or what?"

"Stick it in whe-" Alex's mind provided the answer halfway through, and he stared at the girl in horror, "Did you not pay any attention to those classes?"

"It's not like eleven-year-old me thought she'd ever need to know how to sort it so that a man could stick his dick in me!"

"And then she met me." Tom smirked, "Changed her mind real fast."

Alex glared at him.

"We are going to have a talk ." He said to the girl, pulling out his phone to bring up YouTube. If he was going to do this properly, he was going to make her watch all of those shitty videos that he had to suffer through, "And you are not going to have sex until you know how not to get pregnant."

"Too late for tha-"

Alex punched him. Then turned back to the girl, "I have no idea what you see in him."

She was only too happy to tell him. At length. With diagrams. And one video. Dear lord, where did Tom find any time to do schoolwork? And where did Tom find someone like this ? Alex firmly resolved to make sure that they kept on using birth control. He did not want to be the godparent of any child that was the satanic spawn of two individuals like that.

The phong rang.

"I've got these weird lumps on m-"

The doorbell rang.

"Should I leave the knife in or should I pull it out now?"

There was an assassin on his sofa. A SCORPIA classmate. Weren't they supposed to be dead ?

"Look, I've been poisoned by my former employers. Help?"

Alex closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall, before reaching for the medical kit under the stairs. Activated charcoal, fluids, close monitoring and prayers right?

There was a steady stream of schoolchildren, assassins, agents and military personnel coming in and out of Alex's flat. Word had got around, clearly, that Alex was good at medicine.

He tried not to think about it.

Really, really, really tried not to think about the fact that a significant portion of the coutnry's secret service apparently functioned by calling in at random to his house for medical attention.

It was Alan Blunt that emphasised just how fucked Alex was if he ever wanted a normal life.

He had got home after a long week of school, walked into the living room to watch trash TV and relax, turned on the light, and all but jumped out of his skin when he realised that Alan Blunt was sat in the armchair, resting his head in his hands.

"I've got cancer."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Alex wasn't quite sure where this was going. "Did they catch it in time?"

"The prognosis is good." Blunt forced a smile out, "They reckon that they'll be able to operate."

"Great, that's, uh, great."

"It's just that…" Blunt trailed off, before a tentatively hopeful look crossed his face, "Do you think you'd be able to take over the operation? There's no one I'd trust more behind the knife."

Oh.

For fuck's sake.