Blimey, this is a long chapter ^^

This chapter is dedicated to you, if you have stuck with this story until the very end. And so, my friends, before I leave you with this parting gift, I want to tell you that I will miss you. It's been a good year and a bit);

So, I'll try and write more stories, if I can come up with plots. The only thing I have in my head currently, however, is smut. Do you want a Blaisy lemon or not? Also, would you like a sequel to this focussing on the agents Blane and Daisy are training? Or another mission that they are called to St. Hope's for? Or an unrelated story that's pre-Oscar and Carrie? Please review or pm me so I know what will make you happy.

And I'm planning on editing this story, so you might want to remove it from alert.

M. I. 9 Headquarters

"I'll go and talk to the head, see when she wants to see you," Frank offered, exiting the lobby they were all gingerly sitting in for fear of ruining its neat, clean whiteness.

No sooner had the door shut than Daisy and Oscar sprang to their feet. Blane's eyes darted from one to the other and, frowning, he made to follow them out but Daisy pushed him back into his seat.

"Don't worry, Blane," Rose assured him. "It's not like that."

"Remember, if anyone asks, we never left." And with that, the door closed for the second time.

They crept down the corridors and pressed themselves against walls, breathing as quietly as they could whenever someone dressed in black was walking nearby. To their amazement, when they reached the prison cells, the guard waiting there was looking slightly restless.

"Would you two mind 'olding the fort for a few minutes? It's just, I 'ad rather a lot o' coffee this morning an' I could do with a break."

Daisy accepted, trying not to sound too much like she wanted to kiss the sentry, as he thanked them, tipped his hat and walked off. Shame about not having to use her thoroughly prepared speech about being sent to relive him of his duty for a while for various highly improbable but realistic sounding reasons, but this was probably a safer method of getting to Avril.

Learning from Rose that there was no CCTV installed in this area of the headquarters (because vigorous testing had made sure that it was impossible to escape from a cell unless you had inside knowledge on the lock mechanism) had possibly been one of the happiest moments of Oscar's life. This being the case, Daisy had no problem with donning gloves (so no DNA evidence was found) and raiding the filing cabinet until she found the key to Avril's cell while Oscar darted from room to room, trying to find what, or, in this case, who, he was looking for. Daisy followed, trying to look as much like she was patrolling, as opposed to releasing a criminal, as possible.

When Oscar opened the door to the room which contained Avril's prison, the caged creature looked up sorrowfully. Her hair showed promises of becoming lacklustre and scraggly over the next few days and she was dressed in a set of grey, regulation overalls a couple of sizes to big. This, combined with the fact her face had been cleared of the usual, defining make-up, made her look strangely vulnerable.

In less than a second, Avril's face was whiter than it had ever been due to cosmetics.

"Oscar?" she whispered, responding to the finger he had pressed to his lips. No other sound managed to escape her, however, as she stood and pressed herself to the bars in front of which Oscar was standing.

"It's ok. We've come to get you out of here."

Through the gap between two of the bars which were the cause of this escapade, the fingers of Oscar's right hand laced with the fingers of Avril's left. Daisy, after entering the room and observing this, thought that it would have been quite sweet in a television programme or something of the like. It being real life, on the other hand, she deemed it the most romantic thing she had ever witnessed.

This gesture seemed to give Avril energy, as a stream of questions then burst from her mouth with rapidity such that Daisy only understood about a third of them.

"What are you doing here? How did you get past the guard? Why are you dressed like that? How did you know I was here? What do you mean you've come to get me out? Why does your hair look so nice?" (Oscar grinned) "What's she doing here?" (As Daisy walked up)

"Boy, there's gratitude." Daisy handed Avril the key. "Avril, we know what you've done but we also know that you weren't in anyway brutal about it. We've not got much time so just do as we say and don't ask questions."

Oscar, with a more reassuring tone, gave the first instruction.

"Unlock your door with the key Daisy gave you. We need to make sure that only your DNA is found on it."

Avril complied, fumbling slightly as she slipped her hand through the mesh that she was soon never to see again. As soon as the door had opened, her arms were strangling Oscar's middle and the key was on the floor. Hugs not being his forte, what he returned was slightly awkward but he looked gratified all the same. Daisy winked at Oscar, who rolled his eyes, over Avril's head then mouthed:

"You don't need to tell her it was my idea."

When Avril had let go of Oscar, he handed her a key that he had stolen from Frank's pocket after they had arrived at the compound.

"Use that fire exit and close it behind you. Use that car key to get into the back of a van. When you get there, leave the car unlocked but close the doors and put the key in the front seat. You're gonna have to stay in the back of that van for a while but we'll come and get you. Honest."

"And don't be seen or we would have risked our jobs for nothing." Daisy smiled sweetly.

Still not convinced, Avril's mouth opened and closed but this time questions got no further than her tongue and no sound emerged. Oscar put his hands on her shoulders.

"Trust me. Just do as we say. We'll explain everything later."

Avril smiled. Oscar removed his hands and she was off. Not thinking this was a bad example, Daisy dragged Oscar by the arm to the other door and together they ran to the entrance of the area which contained more cages than a zoo. Gloves were removed and stuffed out of sight and positions which looked like they had been held for a few minutes were assumed.

Within seconds, the guard came back and gave them their cue to tear back down the corridors and slide into the lobby where their three teammates were concealing their amusement at Frank's agitation.

"Where have you two been?" Frank demanded, as soon as the door opened.

Blane looked up at this point.

"Touching up my make-up. I never think it looks quite right when I'm in spy gear. I'm sure you appreciate the need to look good in front of authority figures." Daisy glanced with distaste at the mess claiming to be hair which Frank had run his hands through too many times.

"That could be something for you to mention at your training review," Carrie suggested. "Make-up needs to be redesigned."

"And what about Oscar? I don't assume he was adjusting his make-up or whatever. What was he doing?"

"I'm a gentleman. I'm not going to talk about it."

Daisy thought this was very clever answer, considering it could just as easily be a euphemism for going to the toilet as it could for rescuing a damsel in distress, talking about which could jeopardise her freedom.

"Be that as it may, it was very irresponsible of you both to run off like that. Now we're going to be late."

Frank paled at the thought.

"Let's go then," Carrie said, standing up.

The others followed suit, as Frank swallowed and fiddled with his fingers, and soon enough they all stood in the head of M. I. 9's office. To the general dismay of the agents, Stark was standing behind the woman herself.

"Sorry we're late ma'am," Frank said, before anyone else had a chance to get a word in edgeways.

"That's the problem with child agents, never know how to stick to time constraints. Young people are always such disorganised hoodlums. And you, Frank, are just as bad as the rest of them."

Throughout the duration of the meeting, Stark was ignored in much the same way muzak is ignored by shoppers when they are only halfway through their shopping list and it's ten minutes until closing time. However, this did not stop him punctuating the conference with his numerous objections to youthful agents and differences in views to that of everyone else in the room.

"No matter," the head of M. I. 9 replied graciously. "We are here today to discuss the outcome of a certain mission the five of you took part in. I must confess, even I was a little uncertain about putting part of our youth division onto such an important case-"

"Naturally. No one in their right mind would put a bunch of kids on a mission that was highly dangerous, the success of which crucial for the financial and...and royal well-being of the country!"

The head of M. I. 9 clicked her tongue impatiently.

"-important mission. But Agent London convinced me otherwise. Your high mission success rate combined with Agents Millar and Whittaker's aptitude-" (Blane and Daisy hi-fived but Carrie snorted. They glared at her.) "-made you no less able than any fully qualified team of adult agents."

"Just listen to yourself ma'am! Adult agents would have recovered her majesty in half the time!"

"Needless to say," she continued, through gritted teeth, "I was right. I'm sure Agent Stark will join me in this opportunity to congratulate you on your hard work in, not just this mission, but all the hard work you put in as agents." She smiled at them and looked at Stark, rather cruelly expecting him to add something to her speech.

Stark looked as if he had just swallowed a lemon and that he would rather be feeding the world's most notorious wild crocodile than telling five smugly smiling teenagers that they were good at their job.

"Yes," he spluttered, after a great deal of internal battling, during which there was a silence containing a great deal of repressed laughter and expectance of comeuppance. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he looked badly in need of a mouthwash.

"Yes, what?" the head of M. I. 9 said, provoking Stark's face to turn an unflattering shade of magenta.

A pause.

"It's ok, sir. We understand it's hard to find the right words to express how well we've done," Carrie teased sweetly, although her intentions were anything but. "We'll wait for you."

Stark stepped forward furiously but refrained from acting after he caught the reprimanding look from the head of M. I. 9. The way the situation was laid out, it would have been rather easy to sympathise with Stark, due to the seven people revelling in his discomfort.

"Well done, agents."

Five faux-gracious smiles would have met Stark had he not turned round. It seemed that he could not face anyone except the wall, after putting his policies to shame and being forced to lower his dignity to the level of offering compliments to inferior officers who also happened to be kids.

"Another reason to call you here today was to grace you with the letter we received from the Queen thanking those who had rescued her." The head of M. I. 9 smirked with the sort of knowing you smirk with before someone opens a Christmas present as she pulled a letter out of the file on the desk. Carrie and Rose looked at each other. This managed to stop Stark staring at the wall as he wheeled round with the speed of a spinning top to let his eyes confirm that her Majesty really had stooped to the level of writing to /that lot/.

"To whomever it may concern," the head of M. I. 9 began, "One offers one's most heartfelt thanks for procuring one's location and transferring one from it to the comforts of Buckingham Palace. Although one is sure the intentions of one's kidnapper were entirely honourable-" (Daisy did not miss Oscar's smile) "-it is much more desirable to be in one's home, safe in the knowledge that there is not the danger of one being sold within the week. So, once again, one offers one's deepest gratitude, and requests that you continue to excel in performing your duty to our country. Yours faithfully, HRH Queen Elizabeth II."

Stark was the only one who's face had not been split in two by some of the widest, proudest and most pleased smiles the world has ever seen.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

Blane and Daisy were sitting in front of a desk. A nice, white desk, which two senior officers were sitting behind. Needless to say, both the lower agents were nervous.

"You are here to tell us about Project Alpha," the Head of M. I. 9 began, with a pokerface worthy of Gaga.

"Child agents training other child agents. Now, that's a recipe for disaster if ever I heard one." Stark cowered under the head of M. I. 9's gaze.

"I had heard otherwise."

A stunned silence proceeded. Neither Daisy or Blane could trust themselves to say anything that they were certain would not make the currently smiling, although also deeply foreboding, figure in front of them change her mind. Stark's voice seemed to have temporarily vacated his body as he wondered at the stupidity of his superior.

"How do you feel the training has been going?"

Daisy had hoped that she would be able to nod and smile through the whole meeting and was not going to give that aspiration up readily. She violently nudged Blane's leg with her own and, ignoring the deliciously comfortable tingling spiralling up her body from where they had made contact (although the head of M. I. 9 did not miss her momentary start and smirked to herself), she gestured, as best she could with her eyes and head only, for him to answer.

Silently cursing the girl on his right, Blane began to answer.

"Well..."

There was a silence, during which Stark scoffed and muttered something predictable about youth, the head of M. I. 9 raised her eyebrows and Daisy attempted to conceal her eye-roll.

"Well, what?" the head of M. I. 9 prompted, a slight edge to her voice.

Daisy quickly noticed the need for her to step in and recovered the matter smoothly, if she did say so herself.

"Well," she declared definitely. She used the pause required after a statement of conviction to make it sound more assertive to glare at a now sheepish Blane. "The training is going well."

"Of course they're going to say that, they don't want to lose their jobs!" Stark accused. "How can we trust them? We need proof. Any reasonable adult would have provided charts detailing the trainees' progress!"

"The information is all on the M. I. 9 data base, should we wish to look," the head of M. I. 9 said coolly. She looked at Daisy and Blane as if she was trying to hint something. While Blane puzzled at her change of heart towards them, Daisy cottoned on.

"We didn't bring any charts because we knew we would be able to access the information here." Daisy gestured to the computer next to them. "We wanted to save M. I. 9 resources." She smiled sweetly which made Stark's look as if he was gargling lemon juice.

"Overkill, much?" Blane whispered to Daisy as she was offered the keyboard by the head of M. I. 9 so that she could produce the sought after graphs.

"Well I didn't see you leaping to help," she hissed at him over her shoulder.

The appropriate data appeared on the screen and Daisy positioned the monitor such that anyone who wanted to could peruse results. The head of M. I. 9 refused this kind gesture, however, and asked Blane to navigate the information for them. Unfortunately, there was no way it was going to be possible for Blane to do this without effectively wrapping his arms round Daisy in order to reach the mouse.

The head of M. I. 9 was not entirely sure what had possessed her to do it, but she had issued her last instruction in full awareness of the compromising position it would put the teens in. She wrote it off as punishment for the time she had been accused of dating Bicknall, despite the fact the allegations had been completely true and she had forgiven the young agents a long time ago. It had been hard not to. The blatant young love reminded her of her youth, and there was no denying (unless your name was Stark) that the whole youth division did its job perfectly. And the main opposition to this view (the agent currently sitting beside her) was so darn annoying that it felt good to side with the youth agents and therefore against him.

If the head of M. I. 9 had been trying to punish the young agents, it had worked. Brushing aside the awkwardness of the situation, the unresolved sexual tension in the room would have been enough to make a monk start masturbating. Longing gripped Blane as he described graph after graph, Daisy often chipping in and the interrogators asking difficult questions, his arm practically on fire - he wanted to feel Daisy's tongue on his lips again, and preferably with her wearing less clothes this time. He was prevented from acting on impulses, however, by Daisy's earlier warning of something about upholding a reputation (he hadn't really been concentrating; the top she had been wearing at that point had been rather low cut) and the simple fact that they were conversing with someone who could change their employment status with the click of her fingers (and a stack or two of paper work).

Despite the motivations for Blane's arm being round her being slightly wrong, Daisy thought this was a position she could get used to and was similarly cursing her reputation. But there was no way she was lowering herself to the level of dating the boy who (she thought) everyone knew she wanted nothing to do with.

The head of M. I. 9 nodded her head approvingly.

"These results show a high level of ability, don't they, Agent Stark?"

Stark, looking pointedly in the other direction, grunted.

"You said you though the training program was going well. Why is that?" the head of M. I. 9 asked. Stark turned an evil grin on the spies.

Blane and Daisy quickly had a wrestling match with their feet, which Blane won.

"As you've seen, the younger agents are progressing well," Daisy improvised. "And they tackle every task we throw at them. I mean, last week we tried them with a mock-up of a mission we'd once done and they organised everything almost better than we did." Her words were becoming more impassioned by the second, and she wasn't bluffing. Stark shook his head at the last sentence and mumbled curses under his breath. "And their self defence skills are excellent," Daisy continued. "Nat - I mean, er, Agent Wimbourne - beat Blane last time we practised fighting."

"I let her do that," Blane protested. "She needed a confidence boost."

Daisy raised an eyebrow.

"Agent Whittaker, your thoughts on how well the agents are doing, please."

Recovering from his initial shock at being addressed, Blane pretty much reinitiated Daisy's words.

"I agree with-" he paused briefly "-Agent Millar. I think they're ready to help save the world."

The head of M. I. 9 smiled.

"I think adding more kids to country's security service would do more danger than good," Stark told them bitterly.

The head wondered why she had brought him with her.

"Judging by what I've seen, both today and on other occasions, I think you might be right." Stark blanched. "And judging by the feedback I received when I talked to your charges-" Daisy sucked in breath. They hadn't bribed them to say anything good about their leadership skills at all. "-I would suggest that you could be their mentors."

Stark stood up and knocked his chair over in outrage. Blane and Daisy were both still processing what had just been said.

"We will meet again soon to discuss details, but the bottom line is you and your trainees are being promoted. They're being made official M. I. 9 agents but you're still going to be the one's in charge of them. Congratulations."

Stark had found his voice.

"But this is ridiculous!"

The head of M. I. 9 quelled his temper with a look.

"But, ma'am, are you sure this is a good idea?" he persisted.

"I have discussed with several other members of M. I. 9, including Mr. London. I'm positive."

Blane and Daisy hi-fived. Daisy wished they hadn't, as even touching Blane's hand for a second was a painful reminder of what she was giving up. She knew a similar thought process had gone through Blane's head as she saw a light appear, then disappear, in his eyes. It wasn't as if she didn't want to - heck, every pore in her body was screaming to be brought to life by his touch - but she had too much dignity to stand going back on the feelings she had broadcast to the world. The last consoling thought she settled on before trying to push the painful matter aside was that she had dealt with a similar problem for two years, so any longer wouldn't make a difference.

Stark's lips twisted into a shape reminiscent of a cross between a fig and a caterpillar. His face changing colour every second, he stormed out of the conference room.

The head of M. I. 9 looked disapprovingly at Stark's retreating back then afforded Blane and Daisy a rare smile.

"You may go," she told them and began to attend to paper work. They got up clumsily, and their bodies made contact several times before making it to the door.

The head of M. I. 9 sighed as she puzzled over giving Agent Jowell of the gadget department a week's leave for his arthritis. She hadn't got far when Agent Stark burst into the room with a mixture of triumph and revulsion displayed on his face. The head did not bother trying to conceal her disappointment.

"I think you should reconsider your proposal, ma'am." The wad of M. I. 9 massaged the bridge of her nose. "Adults are a great deal more professional."

Stark nonverbally dared her to ask why. She decided to humour him.

"What makes you say that?"

"When in the headquarters of one of the most important government branches of this country, adults wouldn't kiss each-other in the corridors."

-Fin-