A/N: Wow. I've been gone a lot longer than I meant to..again. Not sure if anyone cares about my excuses, but I just got a new laptop and I've been desperately trying to transfer all of my files before I leave for uni in three days, so I just got this chapter back today, cleaned it up a little, and now I'm sending it on its way!

Disclaimer: I haven't suddenly acquired the rights to Alex Rider in the last two months. I don't even own Never Say Die, yet.

(Is anyone still reading this? If so, I'd love it if you could leave me a review assuring me of that fact. Encouragement and feedback are really what keep me going, these days.)

Somehow, John makes through the meeting, despite spending the entire time half-convinced the people he knows are watching can hear his heart galloping in his chest. It's all he can do to accept the burner phone Wilhelm hands him, to nod acknowledgement when the other agent informs him that instructions will be texted to him, to shake his hand without glancing at the scrap of paper Wilhelm presses into his slightly sweaty palm. Wilhelm watches him with those dark eyes, and John tries to calm his heart, still all too aware of the cameras SCORPIA no doubt has planted in the room. Finally, MI6's station chief nods at him.

"Welcome to SCORPIA," he says quietly, and if John were any less terrified of the consequences, he'd be drunk on victory.

Then he's out, walking back through the streets and toward the flat where Alex and Eagle are waiting, and he feels like laughing, because they did it, he did it. He can't help the grin he sends Ben, who's leaning against a wall and flashing white teeth at a pretty brunette, or the quiet whoop he lets out when he's climbing the stairs to the flat.

The moment he enters, Alex raises a finger to his lips. "Give me the phone," he mouths, and John complies readily, watching as the other spy hands the device to Eagle.

The soldier wastes no time in prying the phone open, picking expertly through circuits and wires until he gives a quiet "Ha!" and pulls out a blinking light. John opens his mouth, but Eagle shakes his head instantly.

"Not yet," he mouths, and John subsides as Eagle turns back to the chip he'd withdrawn, connecting it to a port on his laptop. Finally, the man looks up and nods, and John lets out a sigh, slumping back against the wall.

"Listening device?" he asks, and Eagle nods.

"I've scrambled it," he explains tersely. "All they're getting from us is a load of white noise—best I could do for now. It's got a distress function that broadcasts a location signal if we smash it."

Alex nods. "Good. We'll have to find a way to get rid of it later. Anything else?" he asks, looking at John expectantly, and John suddenly remembers the message Wilhelm had pressed into his hand.

He unfolds the scrap of paper, frowning at the single line of text—

They suspect. Hide your records.

"Oh, shit," he swears, shoving he piece of paper into Alex's hand. "Bloody hell, it hasn't even been a day—"

"How did they know?" Eagle demands, having read the message over Alex's shoulder.

"The tail," Alex answers wearily. "Christ, I should have guessed. They saw you on your first day here when you got rid of that tail." And then something seems to occur to him, because he grins, tension falling out of his shoulders.

"What?" John asks eagerly, because Alex looks like Christmas has come early, the worry that had weighed him down disappearing and leaving him lighter, relieved.

"If their suspicions are based on the fact that you dodged a tail, all the better for us. It makes you more valuable to them."

"But I didn't dodge the tail," John argues.

"They think you did," Alex counters instantly. "And that's what matters. Think about it—our greatest strengths so far have come from SCORPIA assuming one thing when another is actually true. The only reason we were even able to find a way in was because SCORPIA think Wilhelm's dirty. They've known you're some sort of operative since the day you ditched your tail—that hasn't changed. The only difference is that now they suspect an infiltration."

John huffs, exasperated. This makes no bloody sense. "Isn't the whole point to stop them from thinking we're infiltrating them?"

"Yes, but in this case, it's easy to spin another way." The answer comes from Eagle, whose face mirrors the realisation on Alex's. "You'd just have to convince them that you actually want to join SCORPIA—that your skills can be useful to them."

And now John understands why the other two are so pleased…because if he pulls this off, if he convinces them—

"They'll trust me," he says aloud. "The more skilled I am, the more important the jobs they'll give me…the better our chances of finding something." He grins exultantly, and Alex claps him on the back.

"Well done, John Roberts."

The door opens just then, admitting Tiger and Ben.

"Are we celebrating?" the SAS soldier asks, clearly noticing the looks of relief the three of them are exchanging.

"We are," Alex laughs, quickly filling the other two in as Wolf and Snake join them and Eagle apprises them of the situation.

A buzz from the phone Eagle had left half-dismantled on the table brings John out of his pleased bubble. The text is from a blocked number, nothing but a time and place.

"What's going on?" Wolf questions him, smile melting into a frown. "Don't tell me something's gone wrong."

"Nothing wrong," John tries to shrug. "Just—time and place for the next meeting. It's in two days, in the same place."

Ben sighs. "Damn. They're not stupid enough to give you directions to their Berlin HQ, more's the pity…they'll probably have someone there to take you to the actual meeting point."

"Hey, Alex," John starts, a thought occurring to him, "you were part of my SCORPIA tail my first day here—couldn't you get them to put you on it?"

"You what?" Wolf demands angrily, but Alex ignores him.

"That wasn't a SCORPIA tail," he explains dryly. "Give me some credit, Wolf—I'm not mad enough to hand myself over to the people who've been hunting me for years."

"If they weren't SCORPIA," John jumps in, "why would SCORPIA care that I ditched them? Hang on, why would they be tailing me in the first place?"

Ben shrugs. "Berlin is SCORPIA's city. They want to know everyone that goes in and out of its gates, but their people are too…specialised…to be tailing anyone and everyone. Essentially, they outsource the more menial jobs to local gangs, the criminal underworld, etc. If you hadn't noticed the tail, that would've been it. The fact that you did put you on their radar."

"And then I hand-delivered myself to them," John completes, sighing. "So now what?"

"Tracker's our best bet," Eagle shrugs. "Can't say for certain, not with the potential of an EMP taking it out, but it's all we've got."

"Once we know where it is, we can case it," Alex agrees. "We'll need eyes and ears on the inside to even figure out if anything's there."

"None of that's going to be possible if we screw this meeting up," Ben points out dryly. "We need some kind of planning and preparation."

Alex nods his agreement, but before he can say anything, Snake cuts in, brogue exceptionally stern as he says, "Not tonight. We've got all of tomorrow to work on this…we all need to catch up on our sleep."

Even John knows better than to argue with the soldier when he's glaring like that, and silently, they all make for their respective sleeping places. They divide the watches quietly, and if his stomach were less tied up in knots, John would laugh at the equally protective and apoplectic glares that cross Wolf's face when Eagle tries to claim a second watch.

Somehow, he feels…comfortable, here in this Berlin flat. It's not a home, not by a long shot—there isn't a single part of him that can forget that he's not in London, he's in Berlin trying to catch a few hours of sleep before he goes back to plotting against the most dangerous terrorist organisation in the world. It's not home, but it means something, sharing this life with these men, working toward a goal bigger than any of them.

-o-

The day before his second meeting with SCORPIA starts out relatively simply—a coffee run by Ben, who'd been on the last watch, followed by the usual grousing from a still-groggy Tiger and Wolf's steadily rising impatience with the other soldier's lack of energy. Amid the faint laughter and tiredness, there's a sense of urgency in all of them, the reminder of their looming deadline lingering in all their minds.

The tension between all seven of them is thick enough to be almost visible, each and every one of them on edge. John really, really shouldn't be so surprised when Alex leans against the kitchen counter and says, "Talk."

"Wilhelm said 'hide your records,'" John starts, frowning. "What does that mean—my bank accounts? My GCSEs?"

"Your status as an agent," Alex explains. "SCORPIA will be digging into your file now, trying to dredge up as much as they can. If they find out you're an agent, we're done before we've even started."

"They've been at this since yesterday and we're just talking about this now?" John yelps, horrified, but Wolf growls,

"Calm down, idiot. I'm sure these two've been filling your head with tales about how SCORPIA's the worst out there," he continues, indicating Alex and Ben, "but '6 is no slouch either, yeah? We've got some time."

"All right," John acknowledges sheepishly, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "So how do we stop them from finding me?"

A truly wicked smile spreads over Ben's face. "We blacklist you."

John stares. Excuse me? "You're joking," he says at last, blinking slowly. "You—you can't be serious!"

"Why not?" Snake speaks up, a thoughtful frown twisting his forehead. "We wouldn't even have to hide the fact that you're an agent—we'd just change are to were. It would explain your skills and give you a reason to join SCORPIA."

"Oh, they'd love it," Alex agrees. "They've got a thing for agents seeking revenge." His tone is oh-so-slightly bitter, hinting at wounds long-buried, and John is reminded again that for Alex this isn't some mission, that this time it's dangerous. Personal.

"Okay, so we blacklist me. What next?" John asks, more to break the silence than anything else.

"Cover," Ben says instantly. "Your file will give us most of the details, but we've got to put something together that'll make it plausible that you're defecting and give you a reason to be in Berlin."

"Well," John starts tentatively, "I've already got the accountant bit, yeah? Could be a starting point?"

It sounds thin even to his own ears, and Alex frowns. "There's no real way to make that realistic, though. The problem with an accountant is the serious lack of overlap between it and other more…military…professions. It's easy to pass off a soldier as ex-military or ex-spec ops; far harder to explain turning a paper-pusher into an assassin. Also, it'd create all kinds of holes in our story—what, you defected from MI6 only to return to your previous job as a paper-pusher? When any of the world's criminal organisations would've snapped you up in a heartbeat?"

John grimaces. "Yeah, fair point. So how do we reconcile the fact that I came into Berlin as a ruddy accountant with the fact that I just sought out SCORPIA yesterday?

"Well," Wolf starts, "they'll know you're an agent, right? Could we just pass it off as another cover—a way to get in undetected?"

"That…might work," Ben says slowly, tapping his fingers against the wall thoughtfully. "The best lies are rooted in the truth, right? All we're doing is…twisting it. We make you exactly what you are: an MI6 agent posing as an accountant to get into Berlin undetected. It'd explain how you know Mendel, too…two dirty '6 agents, yeah?"

Alex's nod settles it. "Right. That's what we'll do, then. Eagle—you're going to get into MI6's files and mark John as disavowed. Ben, take Tiger and see if your informants can give us any new information. The rest of us…we're going to think of a reason for John Roberts to hate MI6." A wry smile twists his mouth. "How hard can it be?"

Not sure how many people read that...but to those of you who did, I hope you enjoyed it! Even if you didn't, please leave me a review letting me know that you're out there and reading my work. I don't say this enough, but reviews really, really mean the absolute world to me.

Much love,

nrynmrth