December 2002

Alex was first aware of his headache, then his thirst. The strange rhythmic sounds of the monitors and the drip echoed in his ears like terrible echoes. He noted the nurse moving around and he mumbled for water. Or at least he thought he did, it sounded like a long rasping groan in reality. Finally he opened his eyes. ICU, he guessed. White, lots of pain. The edge taken off full agony, just the dull edge of pain all over his body.

The nurse was talking but Alex could not concentrate on the actual words. He fell back to sleep.

Alex next woke to Natasha reading to him. He lay looking at her reading diligently from a book he did not recognise. It was strange hearing a different russian from the colloqual slang used on the streets in Moscow. Classical russian was smooth, beautiful and precise. Alex only had knowledge of the basic Russian leaned during his six week crash course in survival.

Natasha looked up and noticed the solemn brown eyes watching her. She jumped up to get a nurse.

Steven Bannerman was at a loss. Four of the kids had already been identified with replacement ID's and were cleared to return to Moscow, but the one in ICU had no missing person report and none of the other kids knew anything about him except he was a fifteen year old petty thief from Moscow called Sasha. The press attache from the Russian embassy in Washington DC was coming to interview the boy himself.

A spike of pure fear gripped Alex as the four gentlemen from the Russian embassy came to interview him. Alex recogised Yevgeny Shvenlenko. They had met the summer previously when Alex had been in Moscow following Alexei Sarov's failed coupe and suicide.

Alex noted one of the burly guards had an interesting box of electronics, a portable scrambler. No one would be overhearing their conversation.

The Russian State Security Agent spoke in English with deep even tones. "Good Afternoon, Alexander. I would like to thank you again for saving those children. Once again the Russian government owes you a debt of gratitude."

Alex looked at the man with open horror before speaking in Russian. "Have you told the American's who I am?"

The Russian smiled. "Do not worry, Alexander. We know MI6 sold you to that pervert, Zelinski and then burned you. You have a fine grave next to your uncle's in London. I attended your burial service myself." A hard expression crossed the older man's face. "You have nothing to fear from us. You deserve peace and a life not corrupted by MI6."

A sob escaped from Alex. He had guessed right. Alex Rider no longer existed. All control was lost and he wept for all that had been taken from him, his life, his home, his friends and his innocence. The Social worker looked in and saw the Russian Attache comfort the poor broken boy, who had refused to talk to anyone except Natasha since he had woken. The boy just stared with empty blank eyes, ignoring everyone.

Yevgeny looked on through the glass partition as the exhausted boy slept. He now went into the conference with health care professionals and Children's Services. The fake file in his hands detailed a life of a young half cuban/half russian orphan boy, whose uncle had worked for Alexei Sarov as an assistant, former KGB and a traitor. The details roughly matched Alex's own life with Scorpia, the death of his uncle and 'sister' and living on the streets of Moscow. The legend had been perfected with the help of the Cuban Security services. Both agencies owed the young boy. He had reassured Alex that they would help him either in Russia or here in America. Problems with the CIA or Homeland Security were on the back burner as Alex Rider was officially dead. Alex was safe and hidden from his former employers.

Yevgeny told the Social workers that if Sasha returned to Russia he would be placed in Youth Detention for an indefinite amount of time to reassure State Security he was not a threat like his uncle and his associates had been. The Social Worker had a fit as Yevgeny had planned. By the end of the day Sasha or Aleksandr Ivanovich Dubrenev was a ward of the State of California, his file with restricted access until he reacted 18.

Alex had memorised all that the Russian had told him. Alex had friends in high places in Russia and Cuba. It made the fact his own country had stabbed him in the back hurt all the worse. Russia was too hot for him to go back to, so he was now an immigrant, no a refugee in America. Everything would change, hopefully for the better. Alex was very apprehensive as foster care awaited him. Life on the streets in Moscow had been a steep learning curve. Sasha his alter ego, well now his full legend, had done things no one should have to resort to in order to survive, and earn enough money. Vlad had refused to go into the seedier side of things but Alex had been desperate to earn a lot of hard currency, so he got down on his knees and had sucked cock. Alex guessed he was not averse to the whole thing because, if he was honest with himself, he wasn't completely straight. Yevgeny had been completely horrified that Alex had fallen into the sex trade at the instigation of MI6, it had been one of the main motivators for them helping him. Alex guessed him shrugging the incident off also flagged up major concerns over his mental and emotional state. Alex hated shrinks, talking over things he wanted just to forget.

Alex's first session with the child psychologist was like a battle with Alex adamant he be called Sasha and refusing to acknowledge his full given name Aleksandr Ivanovich Dubrenev or to talk about his past at all.

"Aleksandr, could we discuss your injuries. Broken ribs, a broken wrist, severe bruising and the fact you had been raped."

Alex looked at the doctor and simply stated. "My name is Sasha. Don't call me Aleksandr, my uncle called me that."

"OK Sasha. Tell me about your uncle."

"His lies and betrayal led me here, caused my suffering. Caused my sister's death. Why talk over the past? Talk will not change the fact it happened." Alex lay back and thought of Jack, his guardian, his sister. Her death was as much the blame of MI6 as it was Scorpia. Then Alex looked at the cast on his right wrist, the drip attached to his left arm. He was no longer on oxygen and the urine catheter had been removed. He was here now. Here he was Sasha. Alex was dead. He was lying in a hospital in Los Angeles. "My past is irrelevant. I am here. I have survived." After getting away from the hoods, and got the kids safe he had wanted to die. He had been prepared to die. Alex thought back to being on the streets. Eating discarded food because you were so hungry and then chucking it up because it was rotten. You learned to be hungry. Eating was a luxury, like being warm and dry.

"Sasha, tell me about the men who raped and beat you."

Alex swore in russian. He then looked at the man asking the questions and smiled. "I am a whore. I get fucked for money. There I got fucked so they would leave the others alone. I am used to my body being nothing but a means to an end. $20 I suck you off. $50 you can fuck me. That is my life. If I'm lucky the dumb fuck is slow or drunk and I can empty his wallet before he notices. You see a victim lying here. I tell you I am what I am. No amount of talking will change the fact that I am a whore and that I am a thief."

They had told him his foster parents were coming today. Alex smiled inwardly at how Yevgeny had maneuvered the Social Workers to protect him as a vulnerable child in danger from unlawful imprisonment. It all played out as a minor diplomatic incident. Alex would play the waiting game. He had to become a ghost to survive. He had his evaluations in place. Therapy was required. He had at least a month before having to worry about school.