Chapter Eight

AN: Once again, I dedicate this chapter to Nightshade2412 :) I'm sorry it always takes so long!

AN2: To those with exams, GOOD LUCK!

Despite the deplorable method of delivery, the wake-up call from the teacher at the gate – Alex still didn't know her name, but he most definitely knew her disapproving face – had managed to kick him into punctuality, which he maintained for a few weeks.

He'd managed, even, a small improvement in his marks for the history pop quizzes. His teacher had taken to holding them weekly, so they weren't so much 'pop' quizzes anymore, but they kept him on top of the coursework and now he actually knew what they were talking about in class. Most of the time. He'd taken to doing his homework alongside Connor studying, with each of them holding the other accountable.

It was a fragile peace.

And so, when Alex realised he'd forgotten his uniform for judo after school, he tried to accept it wryly, and returned to his flat after finishing class for it. On the bright side, he told himself, it gave him a chance to warm up, and to drop off his textbooks.

As he was leaving, he ran into Connor.

"Hey!"

"Hey." Alex smiled.

"Off to judo?" Connor checked his watch. Alex noticed real estate flyers in his hand.

He nodded, and gestured towards the flyers. "Thinking of leaving this paradise?"

"Yeah, me and the others were thinking of getting a sharehouse or something. Might be cheaper in the long run. More homely, too, I guess. But money's the main thing," Connor laughed and scratched the back of his head. "I wonder if magic people have money. But maybe not if they can just conjure it up. Unless they have, like, special leprechaun or dwarf guardians or something!"

Alex laughed incredulously. Some things he could believe, but that was maybe a bit far. So far he'd only seen magical humans – no sign of mythological creatures.

The lift doors opened. He stepped inside and turned around. "Guess I'll see you around." Or not, if he was moving out.

As the doors began to close again, Connor blurted, "Hey, we thought you could join us. In the house. It'd be awesome –"The doors closed. Alex was glad his non-existent answer was cut off.

Alex was the last to arrive at judo. He took his place at the back silently, trying to take his mind off Connor and moving out, and focus on just this – the last task for the day. Tried, and failed. In a way, it'd be cool living with Connor – he sort-of did so anyway, what with them sharing meals occasionally and studying together, but their flats were still separate, and if he wanted, he could always retreat to his own flat and avoid everyone. Separate bedrooms would be similar, but there'd still be shared bathrooms and a shared kitchen and living space, and all of Connor's friends would be there too, and Alex still had his secrets – he'd become increasingly private after Jack and Tom had left…

A sharp command from the front of the room brought Alex's attention back to judo. He lagged behind everyone to check what they were doing, and then tried to join in with the drills.

Usually he was able to lose himself in drills – falling, diving, throwing. The repetition, focussing only on the specific movements, the feeling of every part of his body, was enough to take his mind off anything. It was like listening to music.

"Hey, watch it!"

Alex snapped out of his funk and realised he'd almost thrown his partner with too much power, compensating for his distracted technique. He apologised, but the bell was ringing to rotate partners and he was drowned out.

Facing his next partner, Alex got into position and tried once again to keep his mind solely on what he was doing. Finally he managed to find a rhythm, and maintained it for the next few partners, until the instructor called for them to take a break.

In the lull, Alex tried to find the classmate he'd almost hurt. It didn't take long; Alex had held some slight awareness of him since the incident, keeping track so he could apologise properly. It wasn't like he was using Special Spy Skillz or anything – he was just… being vigilant.

As he walked over, he realised he hadn't really chatted to anyone in this dojo before. The first day he'd come, he'd been a bit late and just joined in, and every time since then he'd used the place as a sort-of guided gym, where he could burn off some steam. It wasn't like when he'd first joined a judo club at the behest of Ian, where the older kids guided the younger kids and let them play games if they were particularly restive.

Why did he keep remembering the past like some maudlin addict to nostalgia? Alex tried to suppress his thoughts, and pasted a slight smile on his face as he neared his target. He didn't even know the guy's name, he realised.

"Hey," he said.

The guy turned.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier. I was… distracted and didn't realise my own strength." Shit. That came out wrong. He opened his mouth again. "What I mean to say…"

The other guy was shaking his head. "It's fine, mate. Just remember next time that it's just practice. There's no need to try and subdue everyone in drills. It's not a competition – we just want to practice our technique."

Technique. Alex knew he was right, but technique was all well and good in it came to fighting for your life, sometimes the best thing was to eschew clean technique in favour of biting and scratching the opponent.

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face – his opponent was frowning. Where were his supposed 'spy skills' now?

"Judo isn't about being mindlessly violent, you know. Some of us care about the self-control you need to make each movement perfect."

Suddenly Alex's cheeks were hot, and his head was buzzing like when he'd been given the detention before. He squeezed his fists and tried to relax. "Look, I'm sorry, alright," he said again.

"Never said you weren't, mate," said the guy, glancing at Alex's fists. "Just maybe you should chill once in a while."

It was ridiculous how Alex was standing there, so angry, while the rest of them sat so calmly. He felt stupid, but he couldn't think of anything to do.

Eventually the bell ringing again made his decision for him, and he lined up once again. But this time, his mind really wasn't on it, and he left before they started drills.

Alex avoided Connor that night, and the next day, and the next. It wasn't very difficult – Alex knew his flatmate's timetable, and when he wasn't sure, he listened through the walls and at the door to be certain. That wasn't so strange, was it? It worked, anyhow. The good thing about the whole situation was that Alex managed to discover several alternate routes in and out of the building, although he wasn't sure whether that was really admirable. He'd certainly want to hide the fact that he knew what exactly the security guards ate every day – chicken sandwiches, and BLTs every other day – and the name – Michael – and occupation – nurse – of Katie-the-receptionist's fiancé.

There was no other reason to stay at the campus that day, apart from the ever-present obligation to use the school's facilities and conscientiously-designed architecture, but at this point taking the rest of the day off was all but habitual to Alex. If he wanted to study, it would be with Connor. Although now that he was avoiding his flatmate, he wasn't sure what he should do.

For once, taking the long route home from the front of the school, out the gates, around the side, instead of just crossing the green, was a decision Alex made for pleasure rather than in acquiescence to that one teacher. Although the thought of staying in school any longer than was needed sent waves of rejection through him, he didn't know either that he wanted to come back to the empty flat, with nothing to do bar watching the television and his school books.

But he didn't know what else to do, so he continued on.

Since it was lunchtime, there were few other students in the lobby as Alex pressed the button for the lift. Katie the receptionist was gone from the desk, instead replaced by the luncheoning security guards with their chicken sandwiches.

He did want to say yes to Connor. The flat wasn't tiny, but it felt so much bigger with only him in it. That was one thing to say about Ian: the man hadn't left him alone for months at a time – or at least, he'd waited until he'd hired Jack to do that. And Tom had always been more than willing to visit Alex and escape his own house with his parents' shouting filling up all the space.

Alex didn't quite know what it would be like having a sharehouse with the others – he'd met them in various states of drunkenness, exam-fuelled panic, and geniality, and he'd enjoyed their presence each time, but... living with a person was a lot different to seeing a person and saying goodbye each day.

But if fear of the unknown kept him back, then he'd never better his situation.

Alex took out his phone.

It was only words so far, anyway. First they had to find a house. If they couldn't, maybe the whole thing would blow over. And before that, he needed to know if he was allowed. Not that he thought MI6 – or was it just Crawley, now? – was controlling his entire life, but he still felt the obligation to at least consult a proper adult on the matter.

He scrolled through his contacts, and clicked.

Alex watched the blank television as he waited for the phone to ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Crawley."

There was silence. Alex took it as a listening sort of silence, rather than disapproval. Crawley was a man of few words, but Alex hoped at least that he'd read him right. When he'd first met the agent, he might have felt discouraged, but ever since this whole debacle with moving and finding a new school, and then the detention…

"Can I move out?"

Silence.

"I mean, I have this friend – a responsible friend; he's actually older. Not much older, not like an adult, well I guess he's an adult, but just like a few years older, and he's getting a sharehouse and I thought maybe he'd be a good influence and yeah. Er–"

"You want to live with a college student?"

Alex coughed. The way Crawley put it… "Um, no, just share a house with him and some other people. I've met them –"

"Is the young man to whom you are referring named Connor?"

Alex faltered, although he had been for the entire conversation already. "Er, yes?"

"I will conduct a small amount of research Mr Redmond myself, but I may offer reassurance that it is unlikely I should find a contraindication to cohabitation."

First, relief. Then Alex realised he hadn't known, let alone mentioned, Connor's surname. He knew better than to ask. "Uh, okay, well, thank you."

"You are welcome. Is there anything more?"

"Er, not at this particular moment. Thank you."

"Good afternoon, Mr Rider."

"Afternoon."

Alex hung up. Why did every phone conversation with Crawley always leave him feeling strangely anti-climactic? Really, Crawley would make a really great customer service representative. Maybe that was part of why he'd got his job.

Slowly sitting down on his hard IKEA chair, Alex wondered what Crawley was doing at the moment. Was he currently supervising a mission? Maybe he was still dealing with the fallout of the whole Magic Reveal. Alex couldn't help but feel glad he was out of the picture and it wasn't his problem – then again, he itched to know the details, to see what his involvement in the whole flag game had resulted in. He hated that he'd unwittingly helped the magical side win against the magic-less side. It made him feel like, well, a traitor. And maybe their success would result in a skewed sense of magical superiority among all the magical government officials and other magical people who didn't know all the details. They already had a headstart in the whole über-powerful façade, just from all the legends!

Not that Alex didn't recognise they had some intrinsic dominance in some areas. It was just – he felt patriotic for non-magicals, if that could be a thing, and it rankled when everyone treated it like everything was going to be different, better. World-changing, yes, but knowing about or having magic wasn't going to create a utopia. At least not alone.

The sun was still higher than the window of his flat, leaving the room in shade. Although he felt the stirrings of hunger, he couldn't stomach the thought of having to make lunch yet again. The silence of the empty building smothered him.

He stood up again. Looked at his still-unopened bag. Left his flat.

The apathy that had faced Alex when considering lunch in his flat had clung to him when trying to buy lunch, so he'd ended up buying what Connor usually got – a salad sandwich from Tesco. Coincidentally, what he'd seen Katie the receptionist eating, too, not that he'd tried to notice. It just… happened. Like how he knew that she drove a white Honda scooter, or how he'd recognised the same tall jogger leaving Alex's block of flats, then outside Tesco, and now in the reflection of the cars driving past. Although, thinking more deeply, it seemed an unlikely coincidence the man held the same proximity to Alex as he had before Alex had entered the store. He should have been long past Alex already, even if they did just happen to be going in the same direction. He put the thought out of his head. He was too paranoid. And he really should stop noticing these things.

Nevertheless, instead of continuing back home, Alex headed towards the railway. He slowed his pace to throw his sandwich packaging in a bin, waited for the man pass him, and then crossed the road and continued down a cross-street.

There were fewer cars and store windows for Alex to keep an eye out in their reflections, but he didn't hear the thud-thwapping of the man in his cheap trainers, nor his steady panting. Likewise, there was no whiff of his sweat, just cold brick and dead leaves coming from the gardens nearby.

There were a few young families with children, but Alex crossed the main grassy areas until he reached Vicar's Brook, shaded by the moulting trees. He paused to breathe in the damp earthiness, and shuffled around the layers of leaf litter, listening.

Another rustle, from someone behind, made Alex turn around.

The pathway beside the brook was narrow. Alex moved to the side and tried to nod casually to let the man – the jogger, how could it be, he should have been long gone by now – pass by. But he didn't. Instead, he stared at Alex.

Alex felt his heart begin to beat harder, faster. He'd been stupid – all he had on him were his keys, his phone, and his wallet. There was nothing behind him to reach for as a weapon, and the time it took for him to grab anything from the ground would be overshadowed by the man, who could reach him in a single step. He couldn't even try to dial for help behind his back because his phone – a smartphone – didn't have bevelled buttons he could feel for. One disadvantage of modern smartphones.

"Alex."

Running wouldn't help.

"Kiddo. It's, ah, it's Seamus."

That gave him pause. Irritation simmered to the surface as he remembered the Irish man. "What about him?"

"No. I mean, I'm Seamus." The man waved a hand over himself. Alex half expected sparks to fly, or the man's face to melt off and reveal a different face underneath. But, just like when he'd held Seamus' wand, nothing happened. He probably didn't want to scare the passers-by by dropping the disguise.

"Good for you," Alex said, and turned to walk away before he realised what he was doing. The last time he'd spoken to Seamus, he'd hung up on the man in a fit of pique. Irrational, yes. A shining example of everything wrong with teenagers, according to some teachers, sure. But he was allowed to act in such a way now and again – he was a teenager and he hadn't chosen to redeem his generation.

Still, the memory of Lavender's rebuke pricked at him.

He turned around. "Why are you following me?"

Seamus hadn't moved from his spot. "It was a whim. I went to visit you, but decided last minute I decided not to. And then I saw you exiting." He shrugged, as though his story made perfect sense.

Alex shifted. "Why did you follow, then, instead of calling out?"

"I was curious. And I still didn't know yet if I wanted to talk to you."

This was getting annoying. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Seamus looked at him levelly. "I still don't know if I want to."

Alex didn't know if he wanted Seamus to, either, but as always, his curiosity won out. With the shadow of Lavender, and also Jack, who would have disapproved highly of Alex's recent actions, he cleared his throat. "I'm – I'm sorry for the way I talked to you before. I was angry, but I shouldn't have been so rude."

The gadget-master blinked. "You were well within your rights, mate. I tricked you into thinking the game was a matter of life-and-death. But I will say that the reputation of the Magical world is quite important to me, even if the effects of the activity on that were indirect."

Alex couldn't find a reply.

Luckily, Smithers took the responsibility from him with a quick smile. "Shall we say that the both of us acted inappropriately for appropriate reasons?"

They stood there, surrounded by the sighing trees and hidden frogs. Alex felt the chilly air at his nose and fingertips, but there was no wind, and the cool kept his head clear.

Alex nodded.

Seamus took a breath. "The reason I wanted to talk to you was another favour. A mission, if you will." He quirked his mouth. "A proper one; not a game, this time."

He knew it. Months had passed since Egypt. Surely enough time to get over everything that had happened. He had settled into his new life, and almost forgotten the whirlwind year since his uncle's death. Almost, but not quite. Did he really want to get drawn into it all again? And with Seamus?

As if to echo Alex's thoughts, Seamus continued, "Of course, since it's real, you'd be in actual danger this time. But there'd be backup – I wouldn't send you in blind. And gadgets. Proper ones that I don't have to stuff around trying to mimic magic with muggle technology."

Wait. "What do you mean – why are you allowed to use magic this time?"

Seamus looked at him levelly. "The mission involves magic. It's been tumultuous since our people revealed the existence of magic, and we're all trying to make the transition as seamless as possible. We can't go back to the same balance of power as before, but we can make sure the scales don't completely tip over."

The smart thing to do would be to refuse. Alex had his future to think about. It wasn't as if he was the only person who could save the world.

But Alex wasn't the smartest. He was curious, sometimes too much so. It might have killed the cat, but he was still alive so far.

Even so – "Why do you need me, specifically?"

Smithers smiled at him. "Why else – because you can do what no-one else in our field can do: you can be a child."

He knew it.

Crawley called Alex that night. "I understand you are working for us, once more." Was it just the interference from the phone line, or did his voice sound flat?

"Did Smithers tell you?"

"Mr Smithers did report his success in your recruitment. Did he discuss your education arrangements while you are on placement?"

Not for the first time, Alex wondered what Crawley's interest in his education was about. It felt strange to have someone else caring about such things again. Or maybe Crawley's question was just part of his job, checking that everything had been covered. It was more consideration than Blunt had given, anyway. "Not really," he said to Crawley. "It was just the recruitment, really."

There was a pause. "You will be absent several weeks on assignment, starting next week. Rest assured that all efforts will be made to ensure you continue your education in a timely manner so that you may take your GCSEs with the rest of your cohort."

"Thanks." Alex glanced over at his still-zipped schoolbag.

He had some ideas for his extended project, finally, and he wanted to note them down before he forgot.

From the hallway, he heard Connor's door open and close. Maybe he could study in Connor's flat that night. "Okay," he said, "When do I come to the Royal, then?"

"There will be no need for that. If you are amenable, I will visit you tomorrow afternoon to elaborate on the mission particulars."

"Oh, okay, yeah, that's fine. Is that it, then?"

"One last detail."

"Yeah?"

"Regarding the subject of communal habitation with your neighbour, Mr Connor Redmond, and his compatriots."

Alex hadn't thought he cared so much, but he felt his chest constrict and he caught himself holding his breath.

"We have investigated most thoroughly, and I am pleased to tell you that I find no issue in you moving your place of residence to a shared residence with Mr Redmond and his associates."

Alex let out his breath.

"Moreover, I have an agent currently on partial leave that I may send to assist in engaging with real estate."

"Oh, you don't have to do that –" Alex didn't want everything to be weird with some random adult turning up and telling them what house to rent.

"My agent will not engage directly," Crawley said, his voice – if Alex was starting to read the man properly – wry. "He will merely act in your best interests whilst you assist us."

Alex bristled and wanted to say he'd be quite fine without Crawley's agent, but something held his tongue. "Thank you," he said instead.

"Indeed," said Crawley.

When Alex told Connor he was accepting the invitation to share a house, his neighbour whooped and cracked open a bottle of beer in celebration. He got a lemonade for Alex.

"This is going to be great," he said. "I can't wait to tell the others!"

Alex grinned.

"We're going house-hunting tomorrow – you'll be at school, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we'll just take a preliminary look around on the internet. Narrow down the choices. You don't mind, do you? You'd just be missing all the boring bits."

"Not at all," Alex said. "You probably know more about this than I do, anyway."

"Great. Do you have any preferences? We thought closer to uni, but it'd be a bit further from your school than these flats."

Alex shrugged. "I could probably use the exercise. Anyway, the closer I am to school, the more likely I am to be late because I leave at the last minute, so maybe further away is better."

Connor laughed. "That's true. When we narrow it down, you can take a look, and you can come along when we go to house inspections."

It was strange to be thinking about house inspections. Grown-up in a way. Then he remembered: "Ah, I'll be away from next week."

"Holiday?"

"Er."

"In the middle of semester?"

"Not really a holiday." Alex wracked his brain. Where were his spy skills when he needed them?

Connor seemed to notice his struggle. "Don't worry about it. How long will you be away for?"

"Er."

"Never mind." Connor shrugged. "Are you sure it's wise to be missing school at this point?"

He wanted to say he didn't have a choice, but he did. Jack wasn't around as blackmail anymore. He'd made this decision himself. And he didn't regret it.

"Well, as long as you keep up with studying," Connor finally said. "I don't want to see you doing badly. Who's going to force me to study then?"

"Sorry," Alex said.

"Don't worry about it. I'll print a cardboard cut-out of you. Now help me make dinner."

For the rest of the night, neither of them mentioned houses, or school. And then, after Crawley visited, Alex kept his mind very firmly on the mission at hand.

AN3: Just a reminder to check out the SpyFest Revival forum - we're about to run another fest with a fic exchange :D