A lone figure carrying a duffle bag walked down the street in the late Wednesday evening. He had just gotten off the tube and his slouched posture spoke of a long and tiring day to match the grey sky. If anyone had been watching, they would have thought that it was just another schoolboy coming home from a particularly rough sports practice after a day at school. The neighbours knew better. They had watched the boy grow up with a housekeeper and an absent uncle. Until the uncle had died. After that, the boy was frequently away, just like his uncle, and came back looking more serious each time. Then, the housekeeper had died as well and a sign had been put up to indicate the house was for sale. Some people came by to dismantle what the neighbours assumed was a leased security system but the boy still never showed up. Since then, there had only been two potential buyers that had looked at the house. They never bought it so the "for sale" sign was still there. The neighbours didn't know what was going on in that house but sensed that they shouldn't get involved. They only shook their heads at the misfortunes of that family, feeling sorry for the poor boy, and carried on with their lives.
Alex trudged up the stairs of the front porch of his large Chelsea home and unlocked the door, not quite sure why he still had the key but glad that he did. He stepped into the entrance hall and breathed a sigh of relief, feeling some of the tension of the last two weeks fade. Letting the duffle bag drop to the floor with a small thud, Alex looked around the silent house, noting that nothing seemed to have changed. Everything was just as he and Jack had left it when they flew to Cairo. The only thing that was strange was the lack of dust in the house after nearly three months. Someone must have come in to clean regularly so that the house was presentable to potential buyers. Feeling hungry, Alex opened the fridge to see if there was anything edible in it. He jumped back immediately, hastily closing the door. The rotting smell coming from the fridge made him gag. Evidently, whoever came by to clean the house had never cleaned out the fridge. He would have to throw out the contents and go grocery shopping later. Tiredly, he rifled around the pantry and found some leftover cereal and canned tuna. They were the only edible things left in the house. Shrugging to himself, Alex hopped up onto the kitchen counter to eat his meager dinner. He didn't want to sit at the dinner table. It reminded him too much of mealtimes with Jack and he wasn't ready to face that yet. The dinner itself was already enough to bring back memories of how Jack would never cook meals that took more than ten minutes to make. The only difference was that Jack's meals still managed to taste delicious most of the time.
A drop of liquid soaked his cereal, startling Alex out of his thoughts. A single tear had rolled down his cheek. He hadn't realized that the memories of Jack, made stronger just by being in the house, had made his eyes well up. In the two months since her death, this was the first time he had let himself feel enough to cry. Chest heaving, Alex took in several ragged breaths and blinked back the tears threatening to stream down his face, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. He winced. The motion made his new bullet wound twinge and he gingerly let his arm down again, careful to keep it within his doctor's recommended range of movement. At least for now, he would follow the instructions he was given. He wanted to recover as fast as possible. Later though, he would probably get too restless.
After the MI6 helicopter reached England at around 1400 hours, he had been taken to St. Dominic's Hospital immediately. He wasn't surprised. He had been shot, among other visible injuries, so Jones would want to make sure that he was treated. And St. Dominic's was the preferred place for agents of MI6's Special Operations division to recover. It was one of London's most exclusive private hospitals, having a world class reputation. His previous stays at the hospital made him inclined to agree with the five star rating. Despite this, all he wanted to do was leave. Each time he had been treated at this hospital, it was because of injuries he had gotten from a mission. Each time, Jack had been there to comfort, support, and fret over him. This time, he was alone. Even MI6 wasn't around. Ben had been sent to do the paperwork for the mission they just finished and Mrs. Jones had only stayed long enough to make sure he would live. Being at the hospital made him painfully aware of what he had lost. His desire to leave as soon as he set foot in the building didn't matter though. Checking over every inch of his body, the doctors had found a hairline fracture on one of his ribs and suspected a concussion. It was the possible concussion that had the doctors keep him for observation until the evening. Other than that, there wasn't much to do about the split lip or bruises. His ribs had been examined with instructions to ice it and rest but the bullet wound had been treated further. He had been told that it was lucky he had been wearing the bulletproof windbreaker at the time. If the bullet had hit him a few inches to the side, it would have hit his chest but it would only have bruised. It hadn't though. Instead, the bullet had hit his arm where the sleeves of the windbreaker were only bullet resistant to give the wearer a larger range of motion. While the sleeves of the windbreaker couldn't stop the bullet completely at point blank range, it had slowed it down enough that the bullet hadn't penetrated his arm as deeply as it could have. Alex supposed he was also lucky that Sicherheit had been wounded enough to miss shooting at any fatal points that weren't protected. Although he didn't like to think about it, in the back of his mind, Alex also knew that his brief SCORPIA training had played a part in his survival.
Eventually, the doctors discharged him. With no instructions from MI6 and nowhere else to go, he had headed to his Chelsea home. He had no idea what was going to happen to him, or where he would be living, now that the mission was done. The head of MI6 hadn't even told Alex if it was safe for him or the Pleasures to return to their lives in America yet. His future was uncertain. It wasn't anything new. He would just have to deal with events as they happened like he had always done since his uncle's death.
Shaking himself out of his grim thoughts, Alex finished up his dinner and went upstairs to take a long, hot shower. It felt good to be able to wash off the grime and memories of the last couple of days. To have the water beating down on him, loosening his tired and sore muscles. To let his head rest against the wall with his eyes closed against the water, mind blank for once. When he finally got out of the shower, Alex felt more refreshed and clear headed than he had since Cairo. He still needed sleep though. It had been over twenty four hours since he had last slept. Alex padded towards his old room and stopped at the doorway. Nothing had changed here either. The only things missing were a couple of photographs and a football signed by the Chelsea team. Those were the sole luxury possessions that had been important enough to take to America with him. Entering the room, Alex walked over to the bed and flopped down onto it. Almost immediately, his eyes grew heavy and he let the dark abyss of sleep take him.
A man with close-cut grey hair stared back at Alex with dead, pale blue eyes that were normally watchful. He was once a confident man. In a short amount of time, he had seemed to become smaller. Defeated.
"Why?" the man whispered. "You killed me! I could have made the world a better place and you would have lead it by my side. Why did you kill me!" he accused, betrayal colored his voice in a gradual crescendo.
"I didn't kill you," Alex whispered. "You killed yourself."
"I loved you. And you said you would rather die than have a father like me," Sarov said. "Goodbye, Alex."
And then, the man shot himself.
As Alex stared numbly at the man's face, heedless of the blood that had splattered onto himself, the body rose again and morphed into a boy. He was staring at his own face. And yet, it was not him. The gleeful malice of a maniac was too out of place to be himself.
"You killed my father!" the boy shouted. "And then, you killed me!"
"Your father was going to kill so many innocent people," Alex argued. "I was just trying to stop him from getting away! And you were going to shoot me in the back first! You killed Jack!" he ended with a scream.
"Is that how you justify it? Self-defense? An eye for an eye?" Julius cackled, eyes lighting up in a way that promised his enjoyment of your pain. "How are you any different from those you fight? You're a monster," he whispered before a bullet slammed into the middle of his forehead, seemingly coming from nowhere to form a perfect hole. Alex knew his clone was right. And he hated himself for it. In the process of saving the world, his hands had been bloodied. He wondered if it was possible to do the job without sacrificing your soul. "You killed me," Julius' ghost echoed to him repeatedly until the rain-soaked body morphed again.
This time, he was staring at Sicherheit. The muscles in the man's body were taut with rage.
"All I wanted was a safer world and a son," Sicherheit hissed. "After all that I have done for the world, is it too much to ask?"
"Blowing everything up isn't the way to do it," Alex said.
"And shooting me was your solution?" Sicherheit asked, reminding Alex of a teacher leading a debate class.
"You were going to kill me," Alex whispered.
"You killed me," Sicherheit snarled accusingly. Just like it had with Julius, a bullet slammed into the middle of the man's forehead. Another perfect hole. Alex stared as the flames from the fire he had set to destroy the USB licked at the man's body. Except it wasn't Sicherheit anymore. An achingly familiar red-headed woman rose from the flames.
"I loved and trusted you and you killed me," she accused.
"No, I didn't," Alex whispered, shaking his head frantically and trying to free himself from the restraints that had suddenly held him tight. "Julius Grief detonated the bomb."
She laughed darkly. "You think that is what killed me? I would have been fine if you didn't go on those missions. If you hadn't succumbed to MI6's blackmail. I could be living in America with my parents right now."
"There was nothing I could have done," Alex pleaded, hoping that she'd understand. Except he knew that she was right. He might not have detonated the bomb that killed her, but he had led her like a lamb to slaughter by going on those missions. He could have fought harder for her to stay in Chelsea instead of letting her come along with him to Egypt.
"You killed me," Jack whispered.
And then, she exploded, leaving nothing behind but ash.
"JACK!!!" Alex screamed, thrashing desperately against the restraints.
Alex bolted into a sitting position as the nightmare wrenched him from the restless sleep, tears streaming down his face and a silent scream stuck in his throat. Gasping for breath, his whole frame shook as he tried to calm himself down and get the suffocating pressure on his heart to loosen its grip. Before he managed that though, Alex rushed to the bathroom, retching into the toilet. When he was done, he rested his head against the wall for a long while before rinsing out his mouth. He headed back to his room to check the time. It read 2:30. He had only slept for about four hours. From experience, Alex knew that he wouldn't be sleeping any more tonight. He sighed and decided to make himself a cup of tea.
As he padded downstairs, the memory of the dream fed his morbid curiosity and he stopped to stare at the closed door at the far end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Alex turned back to stand before it. This was Jack's room. He had never been in there before. The two of them had had an unspoken agreement to respect each other's privacy. Tentatively, he opened the door. The room was unfamiliar to him. And yet, familiar at the same time. It was strange to see what she did with her personal space. Nothing was placed in a familiar way but everything about the room identified it as hers. It was neat and tidy, just like she would do with the rest of the house, but there were books and photographs everywhere. There were some photographs of her parents and her sister but most of them were of Alex, starting from when she first started to look after him. The pictures showed him at various ages, from seven years old to fourteen years old, just before Ian had died. Looking at this room, he was suddenly reminded of the fact that, despite his nightmare, Jack would never have blamed him for her death. In fact, she probably would have called him an idiot for even thinking it and then proceed to blame MI6 for everything, calling the intelligence agency every unpleasant name under the sun.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Alex whispered, still feeling guilty for her death and everything that he had put her through in the last year. Not being able to take it anymore, he closed the door gently and went downstairs, knowing that he wouldn't go into her room again for a long time.
A cup of tea in hand, Alex went to sit on the couch in the living room, sipping occasionally while still lost in thought. He sat there until his tea had long since grown cold and he had run out of things to think about, leaving him hollowly staring into space. It wasn't until a bird burst into song somewhere that he was startled into pulling himself together. Alex stood up to stretch out his muscles and felt his joints pop back into place after sitting motionless in one position for so long. Next, he worked on the exercises the doctor had prescribed for his ribs and bullet wound before heading back upstairs to brush his teeth, making a mental checklist of things to do that day. As he was changing his clothes to go out, Alex found some cash in the wallet he had left behind when he went to Egypt. Just enough to buy some food for a few days. Deciding it was sufficient, Alex left the house and took the tube to the nearest grocery store.
Halfway there, Alex got a prickly feeling on the back of his neck. It felt like someone had him in their sights and was following him. Although he didn't detect any danger from the attention, he still thought it was unnerving. Alex looked around surreptitiously, using the windows on the streets to examine his surroundings. He was rewarded with a flash of light reflecting off of a man's cufflink. Cheap suit and bland expression. A typical look for an MI6 agent. Sighing inwardly, Alex continued on towards the grocery store, not bothered enough to try to lose the agent. As much as he didn't like being followed, he supposed this was Mrs. Jones' way of showing that she took his safety seriously. It was better than the agency's previous treatment of him. At the very least, he could appreciate the effort she was making. That didn't mean he couldn't have some fun though, Alex thought as he put some vegetables and pasta into his shopping cart. Taking out the iPhone he still had from the mission, he discreetly took some photos of the agent and captioned it in a way he knew would get Smithers' attention. He had no doubt that the gadget master was still monitoring any activity on the phone and would send his findings to Jones. Feeling a lot lighter, Alex paid for his groceries and headed back home, taking some more photos of the agent along the way.
After his grocery run, Alex didn't leave the house again, preferring to stay inside with all the curtains drawn. Over the next three days, he developed a routine of alternating between eating, doing the prescribed exercises, sleeping, and waking up from nightmares with a silent scream. This routine was interrupted on Saturday night. When he went to sleep, he still had the same nightmare. This night, it only got as far as Julius' death though. As his clone's voice echoed its accusation, the dream faded into nothingness.
Alex was suddenly very much awake and on high alert. It seemed that even in sleep, he had sensed that something was wrong. He laid very still, heart pounding in his chest. There was a lithe figure in his peripheral vision. A Russian man with blond hair and empty, pale blue eyes was sitting at his desk, casually pointing a gun at him. The moonlight that filtered through a gap in the curtains illuminated a thin, straight line on the man's neck. The scar could have been drawn with a ruler. Yassen Gregorovich.
Mind racing, Alex slowly sat up and turned to face his intruder. He knew the Russian wouldn't kill him. If that had been the intention, he would already be dead, without ever waking up to realize his presence. After all, the man was one of the world's greatest assassins. Still, he was afraid. He didn't know where he stood with the man. The last time they had met, Yassen had refused to kill Alex and ended up taking a bullet to his chest for his trouble. Some of the last words the Russian had spoken, before he had supposedly died, had been to say that Alex's father, John Rider, had saved his life. That he loved both the father and the son so he could never have killed Alex. In hindsight, Alex could see the signs in the man's behavior that proved this to be true. There was just one problem. The man had believed that John Rider worked for SCORPIA. The truth was that Alex's father had been an MI6 spy in deep cover. And Alex didn't know if the man had found out yet. If he hadn't, Alex didn't want to be the one to tell him but he knew he owed it to the assassin to tell him the truth, whatever the consequences.
"You're looking good for a dead man," Alex said steadily.
"And you have been very busy," Yassen countered with no trace of an accent. His voice gave very little away. Alex couldn't tell what the man's emotions or intentions were. Gun still pointed at Alex, It was reminiscent of the time when their roles had been reversed on the assassin's yacht in the south of France.
"All thanks to you."
Yassen continued to stare at Alex impassively. "I did not make you provoke a powerful criminal organization."
"No. Only directed me to seek them out to 'find my destiny' and the truth about my father," Alex said sarcastically.
The man was silent for a long while. Only the occasional chirp of crickets could be heard in the night as Alex tried to guess the assassin's thoughts. It was nearly impossible to read him though. His body language and facial expressions gave nothing away. Alex was just about to give up on waiting for a reply when the man spoke again. "I do not remember that conversation."
Alex heard the unspoken command to tell him what had happened. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, anxious of the assassin's reaction to his count of events. "After Cray died, you told me about my father being an assassin and saving your life, resulting in that scar on your neck. And that I should go to Venice to find SCORPIA," Alex said quietly, as succinctly as he could to get it over with.
Yassen didn't react, just kept examining the boy in front of him. A long while later, Alex thought he saw a flicker of emotion in the depths of the Russian's eyes before he was staring at a blank mask again. It could have been pain or regret but it happened so fast that Alex wasn't even sure it was ever there in the first place. Finally, the man said just as quietly, "I should not have sent you to them. Your father's betrayal was enough to get you killed. You are lucky to still be alive. Even more so after your own betrayal."
"You know that my father was MI6?" Alex started.
"Yes. I found out after escaping MI6's custody two months ago," Yassen stated, mild amusement briefly flickering in his eyes. "There are many rumours of your activities. You have quite a reputation. Many want to see you dead."
"Are you going to kill me?"
Yassen cocked his head slightly at him before swiftly putting away his gun. "No."
Looking at the assassin confusedly, Alex wondered if it was a trap. Even though the gun was out of sight, he still didn't relax. Seeing this, the man asked in return, "Did I tell you how I got the scar?"
Alex shook his head, heart pounding in anticipation of hearing more about his father.
"A black widow spider had decided my throat was a good resting place on a mission with Hunter," Yassen said in a measured voice. Alex guessed that Hunter was his father's code name in the field. "We were sent to kill a drug dealer in the Amazon jungle and we would only get one chance. Your father found an angle to kill the spider and our target with that single shot."
"What are you trying to say?"
The assassin considered him for a moment before explaining matter-of-factly, "It was an impossible situation. I thought that I would die for sure but at least the mission would succeed. Many people in this line of work would not have bothered to even think about helping their partner. Your father working as a spy only makes it more remarkable."
Alex nodded in understanding, relieved that the assassin didn't want revenge. "What are you doing here then?"
"I once told you to stay out of this business. You have done that for two months. Now, I hear that you are back in the field. Are you going to continue working for MI6?"
"I don't know." Alex didn't know if it was an option. Or if he even had any options.
Yassen seemed to sense this. The next question was, "Do you want to continue working for them?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Alex really wasn't sure. He didn't want to keep being used and manipulated by the intelligence agencies but he knew it was also too late for him to completely back out of this world. There was nothing about the assassin that indicated a preference but Alex knew anyway that the man clearly didn't want him to continue in espionage. Would the man kill him if Alex wanted to continue? Would he bring the news to SCORPIA? Would he try to recruit Alex? Or would he keep the information to himself and leave Alex alone?
"Choose," Yassen commanded.
Bewildered, Alex regarded the assassin warily before asking, "What would happen if I said yes?"
"Is that your answer?"
Alex stayed silent. But it was enough of an answer for the man. "Very well," Yassen said emotionlessly. "I will train you whenever I can stop by without arousing suspicion. We will start with meditation and combat breathing tonight to help get your nightmares under control."
Staring at the man in shock, Alex could only utter a single word. "Why?"
Yassen studied the teen silently, still expressionless even if his eyes appeared to have softened slightly. Seeming to come to a decision, the man told him, "Even though your father knew we were on opposite sides, he did not just save my life. He taught me how to survive. He taught me how to thrive. I will do the same for you."
"I think your debt was already paid when you took that bullet after refusing to kill me," Alex said dryly. "How did you survive anyways? I watched you die."
"I had a bullet resistant vest underneath my clothes. MI6 managed to revive me," Yassen simply said. Alex understood what that meant. The vest would have prevented the more serious damage that the bullet would have resulted in if the man hadn't been wearing it. Just like with his own bullet wound in his arm. Yassen had still passed out from blood loss though. "As for training you," the man continued in his impassive tone, "I am not doing it because of the debt or because you are John Rider's son. I am doing it because of you."
I love you too, Alex. That was what the Russian had said as he was dying on Air Force One. Suddenly, Alex understood that the man was going to train him because, despite being a ruthless, cold-blooded contract killer, he had somehow found it in himself to care about Alex as a person. Not because Alex reminded him of John Rider, his savior and the man he worshipped.
"Okay," Alex agreed, knowing it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and that he needed it. This would also give him the opportunity to build his contacts on both sides of the law. It would be useful if he ever needed it. He supposed that he could thank Sicherheit for giving him this idea. Without his contacts, Sicherheit wouldn't have been able to implement his plans as easily. "But I'm not training to be an assassin." He paused. Suddenly, Alex had a chilling thought and, keeping his voice even, he asked, "What happened to the agents watching the house?"
"They are merely unconscious and should wake up by dawn," Yassen assured him, amusement flickering in his eyes once more. "I have also searched the house for bugs and your phone is downstairs to prevent anyone from knowing about my presence. You will learn precautionary measures like these later."
Switching into what was clearly lecture mode, the man instructed, "For now, sit in a comfortable position and we will start with combat breathing. It is also called tactical breathing or box breathing. If you have just had a nightmare or you are in a high stress situation, this will help you to calm down and clear your mind by resetting your nervous system. The formula is simple and you will follow my instructions as I give them to you. Breathe in for a count of four.... Hold your breath for a count of four.... Breath out for a count of four.... Hold your breath for a count of four... And repeat the cycle until you are calm. Practice it every day. It will help you control your emotions better at any point in time."
As Alex diligently followed the instructions he was given, he could feel his heart rate slow down. The breathing exercise made him feel more refreshed as the increased oxygen in his bloodstream cleared his mind and gave him more energy. They repeated this a few more times before Yassen moved on to teaching him concentration and mindfulness meditation, stating that it would help him to organize his thoughts and work through problems better without his emotions clouding his judgement. In turn, that would help his psychological state and bring the nightmares under control. Alex thought that this might have been the man's way of commenting on his past rash actions in response to dangerous situations. After spending an hour on each type of meditation, the man instructed him on how to reach deep meditation.
At the end of it, golden rays of light filtered through the gap in the curtain as the sun started to rise. Alex couldn't remember a time when he had felt calmer than he did in this moment. As they got up from their places, Yassen ordered him, "Practice everything I teach you daily. The meditation can be useful when you are on a mission where it is not wise to let down your guard. Even though it cannot replace sleep, it will substitute it in the short term by letting your body and mind rest."
Alex nodded, making a mental note to himself to remember this bit of information in case he ever needed it, and Yassen reached into his pocket to pull out a simple, black phone. Handing the phone to Alex, the man instructed him, "I need to leave now and will not be back for some time. This is a secure phone. As long as you keep the call under four minutes, no one will be able to trace it. My number is already in there. Use it to contact me. If you text me, keep the message vague. Make sure to check it regularly."
The man paused and seemed to sharpen his focus on Alex before commanding, "And think about what your terms are for working for the intelligence agencies. Now that they have very little leverage over you, they will not be able to manipulate you as easily if you already know what you want. This world is all about price. If you want to survive in it, you need to play the game. That includes keeping track of debts to repay and call upon. You have more power and value than you think. Make your price known."
This time, Alex had barely finished nodding before the assassin had disappeared off to wherever he needed to be. Dazed at the suddenness of the man's departure, Alex looked down at the phone he was given and decided to keep it on him at all times. As long as nothing incriminating was on the phone, no one would be able to connect it back to the assassin.
Over the next few days, Alex incorporated Yassen's instructions into his routine, waiting for the inevitable call from MI6. He knew they would call. It might not be for a mission, but they would want to debrief him and talk about his future at the very least. By the time the call came on Wednesday morning to request his presence at the Royal and General Bank, Alex had worked out his price and was ready make those demands if they were needed.
Getting off the tube, he made his way over to the bank on Liverpool Street and skirted the dark spot on the sidewalk where his blood had stained it permanently. When he walked into the lobby, Mrs. Jones was already waiting for him and they silently took the elevator up to the sixteenth floor, where the woman was now occupying the office designated for the head of MI6's Special Operations division.
It was only when Mrs. Jones went to sit behind the desk and Alex took the seat in front of her that the head of MI6 spoke.
"Alex, I realize that you probably don't want to be here any longer than you have to. I will make this debriefing as short as possible. This time, Joe Byrne will be joining us though," she said while popping a peppermint into her mouth and turning her screen on to show the deputy director of the CIA.
"Alex! I'm glad you're still alive. Once again, you've done a remarkable job. The fallout if Sicherheit had succeeded would have been disastrous. The western countries would have been in shambles from the explosions in addition to the death toll from the cyanide in the nanocapsules. The drugs even reached as far as Asia," Byrne said through the screen. Pausing as though a thought had just occurred to him, he said, "Also, we owe you for saving Agent Knight's life."
Alex nodded and shifted uncomfortably at the thought of the CIA owing him before he remembered Yassen's advice about debts. "I'll make sure to remember that," Alex said dryly.
Both of the heads detected this shift and wondered about it but didn't say anything. Instead, Byrne said, "Let's get on with the debriefing, shall we?"
In response, Jones explained to Alex, "When we lost the tracker's signal, we had no idea where to start looking for you. An area near Buckingham Palace had just blown up and my agents were scattered, trying to deal with the security surrounding that. It would seem that the bombing there was only to serve as a distraction to lose anyone tracking you, not actually injure people. Our technology comes from Sicherheit's company so it took Smithers a long time to find a way around the signal jammer without alerting Sicherheit. The intelligence world has realized its mistake of only having one major supplier. It will not be repeated. By the time Smithers was able to locate you again, you were already in Germany. Agent Daniels and his team were in the air shortly afterwards. We were lucky that we were able to tune into your conversation with Sicherheit when you asked about SCORPIA's nanotechnology. As soon as I heard that, I notified Joe and the German intelligence, BND, while listening to the rest of your conversation."
At this point, Jones let out a sigh before continuing. "You have no idea how much of a nightmare it was to obtain permission from the Germans to mount an operation. Joe and his people were a huge help as they were already in the country."
"By the time Agent Daniels and his team arrived at Sicherheit's headquarters, my agents had already been watching the building for awhile," Byrne told him, taking over the explanation. "But we had no idea what was happening inside the building, no idea when the right time to move in would be. In addition, without BND's permission, we could be starting a political war if we acted without concrete evidence of an emergency."
"It wasn't until you found Agent Knight and I was able to send a recording of your conversation with her to the BND that they realized how much trouble we were all in and gave us the green light, adding their own agents to the operation to search the Bundestag," Jones said quietly.
"Politics seems to be a pain," Alex commented. He remembered how much the politicians at the COBRA meeting for Invisible Sword had talked and gotten nowhere until Alex and a medical scientist had chipped in.
"It is," Jones agreed. "The BND were quite interested to hear that you were involved. That interest made them listen long enough to hear the situation in your own words as you were relaying it to Agent Knight. Otherwise, they would not have known what was at stake."
Alex raised an eyebrow at this. That was news to him. Maybe Yassen was right. Maybe he did have more power than he believed, in more ways than one. He wasn't comfortable with it but he knew it had its advantages.
"When Agent Knight succeeded in carrying out your plan to create a diversion, our teams heard the explosion and met up with her as she was leaving the building to call for back up. We didn't dare go in any sooner in case it put both of you in more danger than you were already in or made Sicherheit act sooner than he had planned. The rest, you know." Jones paused and then asked him, "Is there anything we should know about the situation that happened before we got the signal back?"
Alex thought for a moment before saying, "Klaus. I trained with him when I was with SCORPIA." His eyes darted to Jones, quickly checking if he had crossed a line by revealing that information to Byrne. "It turns out he is Sicherheit's grandnephew and stole the documents I gave you. He also made the assassination attempt in San Francisco to try for a quick promotion. It wasn't an order from SCORPIA. He escaped during the fight with the cartel and triads."
Both of the heads nodded and jotted down some notes, presumably to follow up on later.
"Now that the debriefing is done, we'd like to talk to you about your situation," Jones stated, putting down her pen and looking at him once again.
And there it was, Alex thought. The point where his future was decided, whether through circumstance or manipulation. He had lost track of the number of times Blunt and Jones had decided his future for him in this very office. Byrne's presence was a new one though.
"As I said before, SCORPIA has agreed to our terms. That has not changed. However, we have conducted further negotiations with the triads. Sicherheit killed their own people while they worked for him. They see your hand in his death as a redeeming factor so they have now agreed to leave you alone in return for one of their members that we had in custody," Jones informed him.
"As for the Pleasures," Byrne added, "they are safe and have returned to living in their home. You might be interested to know that Agent Roberts became a mole because he had a gambling problem and owed the triads a lot of money. Agent Knight's cover was one of many that were blown because of him. He is now serving a life sentence for treason."
"Your friend, Tom, is also safe," Jones said quietly. "I have had an agent tailing him at all times since your request for it. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened."
Alex nodded, glad that no one had been hurt. This time, he thought darkly.
Studying Alex, Jones pulled out a plane ticket from her drawer and pushed it towards him. "Your flight back to America leaves tonight. I'm sure the Pleasures are anxious to see you."
Alex stared at the ticket, not quite believing that MI6 was just going to let him go. Did he want them to let him go? When Yassen had made him choose, he had already decided that he couldn't leave this world. He could find some other way of being involved without working for MI6 though. Alex knew that if it were Blunt, he would be on a plane to his next mission already. Did he have a choice this time? His decision would probably decide the rest of his life. He would just have to take his chances. I'm sorry, Jack, Alex thought, praying that she would understand.
Taking a deep breath, Alex looked up at Jones and calmly said, "No. I'm not going back."
Both of the heads stared at him, surprised at his resistance. Not that anyone could tell the difference. Their perpetually blank expressions hadn't changed. Without looking at each other, the heads both opened their mouths at the same time to reason with him.
Alex beat them to it. He held up a hand and, giving them a determined look, firmly said, "Listen to me for once."
Their jaws snapped shut and they had a faint expression of guilt on their faces, Jones especially well aware that she had never really listened to him. They nodded curtly for him to continue.
"I always wanted a normal life. I've made it clear that I never wanted to work for any of you. But after all these missions, I don't think I can leave it all behind. I tried to in America, living with the Pleasures. And I've felt more alive in the last two weeks than I have the whole time I was in the States."
There was a long silence as Alex waited for the heads to say something. Anything. Were they happy? Disappointed? He couldn't tell what they were thinking.
At last, Jones unwrapped another peppermint and said quietly, "I was afraid that this would happen. Danger can be a drug. It seems that you are already hooked. When you were shot outside of our headquarters, I made Alan promise me that we wouldn't use you again. Of course, he never did keep the promise. I have done what I can to keep you out of this line of work while balancing the safety of this country. Espionage is no place for children. You are fifteen years old now, still a child in the eyes of society. And yet, I think it is too late for you to continue being a child or for us to treat you like one. You matured past that a long time ago."
"That being said, if you are not going back to America, Alex, then what do you want to do?" Byrne asked.
"I'll stay in London. Go back to school. Try to get my GCSEs if I can after all the classes I've missed. In about a year, I could legally work for MI6, if you'll take me."
Jones nodded slowly, reluctantly giving her approval, while Byrne sighed before asking, "Would you like to speak to the Pleasures? I could get them on this video call right now."
"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Byrne." Alex was touched by the gesture of allowing him to contact the people he cared about.
"Joe," the man corrected, a wan smile on his face.
Alex hesitated, still uncomfortable with the familiarity of calling the deputy director by his given name, before repeating, "Thank you, Joe." He made a mental note to remember the man's preference of Alex using his first name. It would be tedious if Byrne corrected him every time they spoke to each other.
Giving a quick nod, Byrne's face disappeared from the screen and the Pleasure family appeared not long after.
"Alex!" Sabina exclaimed. "We've been so worried! The CIA already told us everything was back to normal a few days ago. Are you alright? Where have you been? When are you coming back?"
Liz Pleasure smiled fondly at her daughter while gently chiding, "One question at a time, honey. Let Alex breathe."
"Hey, Sab," Alex greeted them with a sad smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Pleasure." A nod each to Edward and Liz. Knowing this was going to be hard for all of them, he hesitated. Then, taking a deep breath, he said quietly, "I'm alright. It's good to know that you're all safe. I've been staying at my house in Chelsea and I've decided that I'm not going back to America."
The Pleasures paled at this news. A heartbeat of silence passed. Then, Sabina shouted at the heads, "No. Hasn't he already done enough for you? You can't make - !"
"Sab, "Alex interrupted, swallowing hard. "They're not making me do anything. For once, this is completely my own choice."
Sabina looked at him in betrayal, angry that he would willingly go back to the very people who had ruined his life. "Why? Haven't you suffered enough?"
"I can't just sit back anymore when I know I can help. I never was able to. And we both know that a normal life wasn't working for me." Looking each of the Pleasures in the eyes, he emphasized, "Thank you for everything that all of you have done for me. You took me in when I was broken and gave me the space and care that I needed to heal. It helped me more than you will ever know. But I need to do this. I just hope that you won't hate me for it."
"Of course we won't hate you for it," Edward assured him, finally finding his voice after the shock from the news. "We could never hate you. I hope you know what you're doing though."
"You're welcome to come to us anytime," Liz added, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "If you need a place to stay, a person to talk to, anything... you just have to say it."
Alex nodded in gratitude, thankful that there were people who cared so much about him. He knew that he would limit his interactions with them though. They had already been too involved in the dangers of his life as it was. Hopefully, there wouldn't be a next time.
"I don't suppose there's anything I can say or do to change your mind?" Sabina asked, putting on a brave face.
"No," came his soft reply.
So, Sabina nodded and said with forced cheerfulness, "Well, the next time you're on vacation, you better finish having that picnic with me!"
Alex smiled. "Of course."
"I suppose this is goodbye for now," Edward said. "Do you want me to send over your belongings?"
"Yes, please. That would be great."
Edward nodded. "Good luck then. Don't do anything stupid. And keep in touch."
"Remember, you'll always have a place with us," Liz said.
Alex nodded and the Pleasures turned to leave. Just before they disappeared off the screen, Sabina murmured, "Goodbye, Alex. Stay alive."
"Goodbye," Alex whispered.
The next moment, Byrne appeared on the screen again.
"I will arrange for the transportation of your belongings, Alex," he said. "But for now, I have another meeting. If you're going to continue in this line of work, then I look forward to working with you again. Until next time," he finished with a two finger salute.
The screen blinked off, leaving the office silent as the two occupants in the room waited for the other to speak. Jones was trying to gauge the mental state of the teen in front of her but soon realized that, for once, she couldn't read anything from him. She was afraid to know if this was because he had become adept at hiding his emotions or if he had shut down. She hoped it was the former. At least that would mean he could continue surviving in this world, even if the reason for the development of this ability was unpleasant.
Finally, Jones said, "If you are going to stay in England, then we need to find you a guardian. Do you have any suggestions?"
"You're going to let me choose?" Alex asked suspiciously.
"I know that we have not treated you well in the past but I want you to know that we are not the enemy, Alex. As I said before, you should no longer be treated like a child. With that, comes responsibility and choice."
Something about her tone made Alex feel like there was a larger message behind it. That she wasn't just talking about his guardianship situation. "So, what are you saying?" Alex replied slowly.
"Put more plainly, you should have the right to choose your own path and deal with the results like an adult. That includes choosing your own guardian. In addition, I want to make it clear that if we need you for another mission, there will be no more manipulation. You will have the choice to accept or refuse, no strings attached. Like you said, we can legally employ you in about a year when you turn sixteen. The way we have used you is not how our organization usually operates. I'd like you to know what the standard is before you make the decision to legally work for us."
Alex nodded slowly, analyzing Jones' words for any deceit or hidden meanings. While he couldn't detect any deceit, he also knew that it would be unlikely for him to do so. Not until he had more training and experience. He did, however, see one possible hidden meaning.
Staring hard at the head of MI6, he casually asked, "Do you already have a mission for me?"
Jones stayed silent, weighing her options. Finally, she came to a decision and revealed, "Yes. In fact, I have a few but they do not require immediate field work. There are still some things we need to take care of before that happens." She paused, thinking about how much to tell him, and then added, "Word of your involvement with stopping Sicherheit has travelled fast. We have already received requests for your service from MI6's Black Operations division, MI5, and BND."
Alex raised an eyebrow while sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. It had only been a week since his fight with Sicherheit. He knew the rumours had spread fast. Yassen had already proved that. But he was surprised at the demand for his work. "I'm not working for Black Ops."
"Noted."
"What are the missions for MI5 and BND?"
Jones hesitated before saying, "I think it would be best if we left that to a later date. Until we know more about what the missions entail, we won't be able to determine which one is more suited for you."
"Alright. You say that I should be treated like an adult. Does that include negotiating employment conditions?"
"Of course."
Alex took a moment to compose his thoughts, remembering the conditions that he had come up with in the last few days. "Since you already have other missions for me before I'm legally employed, my terms, if you agree to them, start now. Otherwise, I'll find somewhere else to work."
Jones nodded, both in agreement and for him to continue.
"First, no more lying to me. That includes lying by omission. If I find out you've lied to me, I will no longer work for you. Employed or loaned."
"Agreed."
"Second, I get full, proper training. Preferably before I get sent on another mission. If not, I suppose training in between missions will do. And I get a say in what additional training I receive."
Jones hesitated. "I'm not sure that's possible. Keeping your involvement with us under wraps is important and already difficult enough."
Alex gave her a look. "If you can drop me into the middle of an SAS training camp for eleven days after drugging and kidnapping me, I think you can manage giving me the rest of the training." Pausing, he continued bitterly, "Besides, if I had had the proper training, then maybe Wolf wouldn't have been shot on Point Blanc. Maybe Ben wouldn't have been shot on Dragon Nine. Maybe Jack would still be alive."
The last part had faded into a whisper and was what made the decision for Jones. "Alright, you'll get the training."
Satisfied, Alex cleared his throat and kept going with his list. "Third, you provide a tutor for me to catch up with whatever schoolwork I have missed because of missions. I'm no use to you if I can't even get my GCSEs."
"Done."
"Fourth, I get to carry weapons around with me at all times while you provide protection for the school as well as my friends when I'm not around. Even though you've made deals with SCORPIA and the triads, I think that the incidents with Desmond McCain and Klaus prove that I'm still a target."
Jones stayed silent, clearly not liking this condition at all even if the teen did have a point. No matter what his mental age, he was still legally a minor. Weapons would only bring unwanted attention and result in a political headache if things went wrong. She knew she had to somehow meet his demands if she wanted to keep him with MI6 though. "How about this," Jones compromised, "we will provide protection but you carry Smithers' gadgets instead of weapons until you are legally employed by us."
Alex thought for a moment. "Alright," he conceded. A pause. Then, his eyes brightened. "Do I get to choose which gadgets?"
Jones pursed her lips. "Within reason."
Nodding, Alex went on with his terms. "Fifth, when you do legally employ me, I get full agent status with all the pay and benefits of one. I get access to the same things that other agents do. Like clearance level and back up. I also get back pay for all the missions I've done from before."
"Fair enough. You do realize that having full agent status includes doing paperwork and talking to our psychologists for assessments and therapy, among other things?"
Alex stopped short. "Yes." He knew there were duties like these that he had to fulfill even if he didn't like it. He would deal with them when they came. For now, he went on to say, "And lastly, grant me legal emancipation. I don't need a guardian."
Jones stared at him. She hadn't expected that one. "I don't think that's a good idea. You haven't reached the age of majority yet and this would draw more attention to you."
"My absences at school have drawn more attention than this ever would."
"I would feel better if you had someone else living with you."
"If I can take care of myself on missions, then I think a little cooking and laundry should be no problem," Alex countered dryly.
"Fine. I'll take the house off the market and get someone in to reinstall the security." As much as Jones didn't like Alex not having a guardian, she knew it was a lost battle. All in all, his terms weren't bad. They were well thought out and beneficial to both parties in the long run. Other teens would probably have asked for a car, permission to permanently leave school, or something just as rash, she mused. "Now that you have finished with your terms, I have one for you."
Alex raised an eyebrow, surprised that there was only one, but waited for her to go on.
"If you are going to be an agent, you will have to follow orders and procedures."
Alex hesitated. He had orders to leave Damian Cray alone but he had pursued the matter anyways. It was a good thing he did too. Otherwise, many countries would have been a nuclear wasteland. Because of this, and the blackmail, he didn't trust orders but knew he had no choice with this one. He could try to minimize some of the damage that following orders might do though. "And if you aren't listening to me and another Damian Cray happens?"
Jones pursed her lips again before saying tersely, "Then you are free to work independently for your self-appointed mission. But do not expect support from us."
Alex nodded again. That was as good as he would get from her.
"One other thing. If you are going to continue working for us, legally or not, then I want you meet my deputy head." Jones pressed a button on her office phone and a grey-haired man with a large nose and deep set brown eyes limped in not long after. "This is David Morris," she introduced. "He was a very successful field agent but switched to desk work after a mission resulted in his left leg being amputated. David is filling the role of deputy head until an appropriate candidate can be found or he retires, whichever comes first."
Addressing the man, she said, "This is Alex Rider. He has been very useful in the last year and has agreed to continue working for us as long as we meet his terms."
David Morris turned to study Alex. "So this is the famous Alex Rider. You are certainly even younger than the rumours have said," he remarked with a hint of disgust.
Alex shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny while Jones coughed and replied, "Yes, well, there were... extenuating circumstances."
The man nodded. "If that is all..."
"Yes, it is."
Morris turned on his heel and swiftly left the office. A beat of silence followed, just long enough for the door to close. Then, Jones said quietly, "Don't mind him. It's nothing personal. He is upset that someone so young was used."
Alex sighed internally. He had a feeling that this would happen a lot. "You want me to convince him that I can handle it, don't you?"
"Yes. It would make working together much easier," Jones admitted. "Is there anything else we should discuss before we end this meeting?"
He examined Jones for a minute. "Is there anything you want to tell me? Maybe something relevant to my past?" Alex prodded.
She was silent, trying to figure out what he was getting at. She did have something that she ought to tell him but couldn't bring herself to do it. Besides, he couldn't possibly know about the Russian's survival. "No," she finally answered.
He considered her carefully. So that was how it was going to go, Alex thought. If that was how she wanted to play it, then he was just going to keep his dealings with Yassen a secret. He mentally snorted. Withholding information was a great way to start a new working relationship. He knew that his condition of no more lies would never be truly fulfilled. After all, lying is what this line of work required. But he had hoped that the term wouldn't be broken quite so soon. In this case, it didn't matter though. He already knew what she was withholding and it worked to his advantage. Eventually, he said, "Alright. I guess that's it. Although, if you want to have an agent tailing me after I leave the building, maybe they should be more competent."
Jones coughed. "Yes, they should. The agent you took photos of has been sent for retraining."
With that, Alex left the office to head home. Jones watched him go, still surprised at how the meeting had turned out. She had expected him to be on a flight back to America tonight. Instead, she got his promise of service and a list of terms to meet to keep that service. Her time with MI6 had made her a very hard person to surprise but it seemed that the teen always managed to do just that. She opened her top drawer, taking out a file that she had already read many times and memorized. It was Alex's file, put there to remind her of mistakes that she had made in the past. The file was several inches thick, bigger than any other regular personnel file. And the whole thing represented those mistakes. It was a file that should never have existed. And yet, replaying the meeting they just finished in her head, she wondered if it was truly a mistake in the long run.