Due Diligence
By Simply Shelby

Jack Starbright wasn't sneaky.

It simply wasn't in her genetic makeup to be unseen and unobtrusive. She was as loud and obnoxious as her red hair would suggest. She was neither prim nor proper and probably couldn't blend in if her life depended on it. Which, she was guessing--but trying not to think about--it probably did. Judging by the way her escort kept glancing nervously between her and the crowd on the street, her memorable presence was causing the man to grow increasingly frustrated.

Oh well. It wasn't like his big, burly frame was so invisible. Though, he did seem to be trying to look smaller and less threatening by hunching over and clasping his hands in front of him, seemingly embarassed about something. Or bashful. Actually, he did look quite a bit like the Disney dwarf, Bashful. It was a silly picture to imagine and Jack tried not to giggle, knowing she'd fall into hysterics and tick the man off even more.

Talking made Jack feel less awkward in a hopelessly awkward situation. Even if she had absolutely nothing worth saying. Her parents had tolerated it, Ian Rider had ignored it and Alex had learned to live with it. But strangers still found it annoying sometimes. "So, I'm Jack," she began cheerfully and fell short at his lack of response. "But... I'm guessing you already knew that." Immediately, though, she had another question, "What's your name?"

She caught him glance strangely at her before replying lowly, "Bear."

Okay. She could sort of see where the name had come from. But there was no way she was calling him that in public. "Don't you have a real name?"

"Don't you?" He retorted, forcing her to turn the corner by bumping his arm slightly into hers.

She had half a mind to tell him that Jack was her real name, but decided a different line of questioning was probably safer. "Where're we headed?"

"Out of London."

Jack rolled her eyes at the vague destination. "Just how far are we going?" Gesturing to her high-heeled feet, she added, "Because I've been walking all day."

"Not far."

"You're not MI6, are you?" She'd been playing with the idea the entire time they'd been creeping around London. Because in her experience, MI6 was fond of sending non-descript black cars and getting down to business. To be honest, she would prefer a simple car ride to tearing up her feet on the atrocious London streets.

They turned another corner into a narrow alley way and came to an abrupt stop in front of a perfectly non-descript black car.

Jack stared.

"You ask too many questions," the man announced with words that sounded ominously like those said before the mafia lackey offs the innocent victim and hides him in the trunk. "I'm taking you to Alex."

And now he was getting straight down to business. Jack was seriously rethinking her conclusion about him not being MI6.

"I'm not MI6."

Well. That was that, then.

"Alex Rider is currently under the supervision of SAS. You're being taken to him to keep MI6 from using you against him as they have in the past." He jerked his head towards the car. "Get in the back and stay low." He slipped into the driver's seat and deliberately buckled his seat-belt before starting the car.

"Are we there yet?" Jack quipped quietly from her spot on the floorboard, wondering if she was doing the right thing by trusting this man and going along with his words.

And hoping to God that Alex was alive and safe.

Mrs Jones was in a tizzy.

Although, most of her life was spent in this state, hidden by a flawless haircut and stainless pantsuits and only shown through her nervous sucking of peppermints. The deputy director had never acted on the so-called stage, never felt her blood freeze before a performance, or the adrenaline of forgetting cues and 'winging it'. But she felt it was important to put on a show for her agents. And critics. To show she was in control and never wavered. That she knew every scene and every alternate ending by heart.

Alan would kill her if he knew that she had already communicated with Alex's kidnappers.

Her mobile rang in a clear, calm tone. An unknown number that couldn't be traced and disappeared from her records directly after the call was terminated. At least the kidnappers were punctual. Closing her eyes to compose herself, she answered calmly. "Yes?"

The voice at the other end was as calm as hers. Perhaps even more so. Perfectly blank and devoid of emotion. "You didn't listen."

"Did you expect me to?" Her hands hovered over another peppermint. The plastic packaging rustled and she snatched her hand back.

"Consider this proof of action."

She wasn't willing to let this person have the upperhand. "What are you going to do?" She scoffed, "You can't hide him from us for forever."

"No," the voice concurred. "But we can show him to the rest of the world."

Mrs Jones took the threat for what it was. "I'll see what I can do," she promised vaguely and proceeded to engage in the infamous art of negotiation.

"Update?" Wolf asked softly of the man lingering in the doorway without turning away from Alex. The kid had re-succumbed to unconsciousness after about an hour of suffering through excrutiating pain that the morphine drip couldn't dull. Of course, if he had just lain still and not gotten so worked up about this whole thing, it never would have happened.

"Contact established," Eagle reported, crossing his arms and observing the pair with curious eyes.

"And?" Wolf shifted his head to look at his team member.

"And." He drawled the word out. "She said she'd look into it. She requested we not hurt him."

"Of course she did." That didn't surprise Wolf. After a bit of core-of-the-earth-deep digging, they'd found mention of a lost family. Alex was the woman's weakness and she was MI6's. It was the best avaliable plan at the moment. "The housekeeper?"

"En route," was Eagle's prompt response. At Wolf's raised eyebrows, he added, "You know how difficult it is to sneak out of London undetected."

Wolf did know. First hand, in fact. "Snake?"

"Coffee."

That did surprise him. "Seriously?"

"And snacks," the lanky man imparted.

Wolf frowned at him. "Do I want to know how?"

Eagle shrugged. "It's Snake and snacks." As though that explained everything. Which it probably did.

But Wolf sensed something beneath the simple explanation. A quick, keen look told him all he needed to know. "Go on."

The soldier across the room sighed heavily. "We're doing the right thing here."

Wolf grimaced and turned back to Alex. "I didn't say anything."

"Never said you did." Eagle stayed as far away from his leader as he possibly could without leaving the room. "We're doing the right thing. I know. I'm just a little fuzzy on the why. It's not like we owe him anything. Fox just said to get him out." They weren't words he relished in saying, but they needed to be said. It was true that most times their team communicated with simple looks and signals and that was sufficient. But other times--times where Cub was included--things needed to be said out loud.

"He was a part of our team." The man didn't look up.

"Rubbish." Dismissal was quick and cuthroat.

A long silence ensued. "He's just a kid." Wolf finally admitted. "He shouldn't be out playing Double-O-Seven. He should be dreaming about being a footballer and chasing after girls."

"He's just a kid," the other man reiterated, "And it's not like you to be so attatched."

"I'm not attatched."

"You telling me you went into this with a clear head?" Eagle derided. "It was a half-assed decision you made in a fit of self-righteousness. The only reason we've come this far is because we're pretty good at improvising."

Wolf was perfectly still in the side chair. Words between them weren't ever taken for granted. "You're calling me out on this?"

"You're damn right I am."

"So you disagree?"

Eagle pursed his lips. "No. We all would have done the same. But you need to take a step back. Get some perspective."

Wolf nodded imperceptibly. "Alright."

A faint smile played over Eagle's face. "We're going to catch hell after this is over. Scuttlebutt is that the Major General covered for us with MI6."

"Well that's just fucking lovely," the team leader muttered, "Cub better damn well appreciate this."

Eagle coughed sharply in amusement. "Something tells me he's not going to be too thankful once he's coherent enough to understand."

"Of course he isn't. Kid's tired of being manipulated."

"So we're manipulating him to put an end to the manipulation?"

"Something like that," Wolf growled, settling back into the chair.

And for a few moments they watched the teenager together in steady silence--guarding and waiting.

AN: Enjoy. Hope I've kept everyone in character.