And it's finally done! Sorry for the wait, guys. I have a research project here at school that demands most of my time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and thanks to all of you who have followed this story to the end!

The door to the upstairs office was slightly ajar; there was no noise from inside.

Ben rested his hand on the rusted knob for a moment, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, before pushing the door open. There were three things that he saw instantaneously.

First, that there were no other doors in the room, only tall, Venetian windows that were nothing more than shards of glass. That meant that if Alex was going to escape, it would be through those.

Secondly, Alex himself was hurt. There were bruises all along his face and neck and a smear of blood running from a cut under his eye. That told him that Snake had not gone quietly and that it had been more than a close fight.

Thirdly, that his old teammate was in an immense amount of pain, no matter how stoic he was trying to be about it. The man's hands were tied to the arms of an old, ratty office chair with electrical wire, and there were lengths of it wrapped around his chest and feet as well. He had fight marks to match those of Alex's, and his right hand was swollen and disfigured. But it was the last injury that made Ben hiss through his teeth.

"You stabbed him." It wasn't so much a question as it was an accusation. Something flashed across Alex's face as he followed Ben's gaze to the slowly seeping wound in Snake's side. Ben could have sworn it looked something like guilt, but it was gone quicker than he could identify it.

"Scottish temper," Alex said, shrugging. He picked up a knife from the desk next to the chair and wiped the blood-slicked blade off on the back of the soldier's uniform. "If I remember right, grappling wasn't your strength at camp, Snake. You've gotten better."

"I w-was kicking your arse till you pulled out the knife," the man said with a shuttered breath. "Shouldn't h-have expected a fair fight out of a bloody assassin."

Alex gave an icy smile. "'Fair' is a relative term. Isn't that right, Ben?" He looked at his ex-partner, as if waiting for an answer. Ben remained silent, and Alex continued on, smile slowly slipping from his face. "'Fair' depends on the ones involved in the situation. 'Fair' is a word used to make those of us who are sacrificed compliant – isn't that right, Ben," he hissed.

"You know I never supported what they did to you," Ben replied coolly. "Why do you think I left the SAS?"

"Because no one says 'no' to MI6."

Ben's eyes glinted. "MI6 wanted me for one job, Alex. I chose to stay because I knew there wasn't one person there that gave a hell about what happened to you! I was trying to protect you – I've always tried to protect you! You're just too selfish to ever have paid attention."

There was a deafening silence after that, only pierced by Snake's ragged breathing. Neither of them dropped their gaze. "I don't know what you want from me, Ben," Alex said finally, tossing the knife back on the table. "If you thought you could come in here and try to make me feel guilty, you were wrong. I've made my choice."

"Alex-"

Alex growled and whipped a gun – Snake's gun – out from behind his back. In one fluid motion, he had moved to the side of Snake and now had the barrel shoved against the man's temple. "We both know that there are only two ways that this is going to end, Ben. I will not go back to rot in a cell for the rest of my life!"

Ben's jaw clenched. So this was how it was going to be. "I know," he said quietly. And then he did something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Raising his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes inadvertently flicking over Alex's shoulder to the building across from them before returning to the teen's. Something sparked in those dark eyes. Acceptance? Finality?

Alex never looked away. There was a split second when the air was unnaturally still. Alex opened his mouth to speak, the words only making it halfway out before silenced by a single gunshot.

Ben felt frozen, and the scene before him occurred almost as if from a muffled distance as Alex – ex-partner, teenager, broken spy – collapsed to the ground. This time, the sniper hadn't missed.

The door behind him burst open, and at the edge of his vision he saw Wolf and Eagle shove past him to get to Snake. But he couldn't take his eyes off the still form on the floor – nor could he hear anything else but those last whispered words.

Thank you. He had said thank you.

He found himself moving forward in mechanical movements. He was standing next to the body, then on his knees, not even aware of the blood soaking into his pants. The swirl of emotions he had been feeling came to halt as a wave of numbness cascaded over him. He picked up the limp, white wrist and checked for a pulse, even though he knew that Seal's shot hadn't missed.

As he laid Alex's arm back the ground, he became aware of a soft buzzing coming from the teen's pocket. He pulled out the cellphone just as the buzzing stopped, the figures on the changing from 6 to 7 missed calls with a blink.

Flipping open the phone, he scanned the call log. One dialed out, seven more dialed back in – all the same number. His contact? They wouldn't be that stupid, though; they would never call more than once. He nearly dropped it as the phone began to buzz again and, without even so much as a glance at the number, he pushed the 'send' button and lifted it to his ear.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" the voice on the other end assaulted him before he could even say anything. "You don't call someone up you haven't spoken to in years and say 'Oi, Tom, I'm gonna get shot so come arrange my funeral, yeah?' It's not funny, Alex. Not after everything we've been through!" The caller paused and took a breath, and when he spoke again, the anger was gone. Now there was only panic. "Alex? You better be bloody joking about the funeral thing, mate... Alex? Alex!"

The phone slipped from Ben's hand as he stared on in horror. No... He scrambled for the gun that was still gripped in Alex's hand, yanking out the clip and emptying the chamber – only to find them both empty.

And it all made sense.

The room with a window at his back...the flicker of guilt at Snake's injury... Ben ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at its roots. Alex had intentionally provoked him; hadn't made any demands... He had moved to the side of Snake, giving the sniper a clear shot...

A cry of rage escaped him, and suddenly he was pounding on the teen's chest. "You coward! You selfish bastard! How could you-" he shrugged off the hand that appeared on his shoulder. "How could you do this to me?" Someone was pulling him away now, and he fought only as he was dragged to his feet.

"Daniels. Daniels!" Someone was shaking him. "FOX!" Ben stilled, slowly becoming aware of the Wolf's hardened eyes peering into his. "It's done," the man said quietly.

Ben glared at him a moment before shaking him off. He stalked out the door and down the stairs, momentarily blinded by the afternoon sun as he exited the warehouse. By the time his eyes adjusted, several black government vehicles were pulling up. He kept walking even as Mrs. Jones stepped out the first car.

"Agent Daniels-" She stopped when she saw the look on his face, eying him warily as he approached. Everyone tensed as he reached into his pocket, but Ben only drew out his badge – his gun was still with Eagle in the warehouse – and handed it to her. "Ben..." she began.

"I'm done." He met her eyes momentarily, and she finally gave a curt nod. "I'll be in tomorrow to give my statement."

Without waiting for a response, he brushed past her. And he didn't look back.

10 years later...

It was raining by the time the man got to the cemetery. Pulling his long trench coat closer around his neck, he grabbed the brown paper bag off the seat next to him and stepped into the downpour.

He followed a small gravel pathway for ten minutes before veering off into the grass. There, in the little visited back corner, stood four plain gravestones. The man plopped down next to the one furthest to the right, ignoring the water and mud that seeped into his suitpants.

He sat there for a minute, face turned up towards the sky, eyes closed as the rain pelted his face and slicked his dark hair to his forehead. Finally, with a sigh, he reached for the sodden brown bag and pulled out a couple of beer bottles.

"Has it really been ten years?" He asked, twisting off the cap of one and taking a long swig. "I swear this day comes sooner and sooner every year." He snorted. "I suppose you would tell me that I'm just getting old."

Opening the other bottle he slowly poured the beer into the grass in front of the grave. "Drink up, old friend; you've been old enough for quite a while." He followed this up with a toast from his own bottle, and gulped it back, arms then dropping heavily on his knees, bottle dangling listlessly between his legs.

The man stayed another five minutes, though said nothing. When he finally pulled himself from the ground and collected the bottles and bag, he paused to take one final look at the granite stone in front of him. Then, with a tip of the head and a quiet "see you next year, mate," he headed home.

Later that night, as he kissed his youngest goodnight, he was surprised when the usually quiet six-year-old spoke up. "Daddy, why were you so sad when you got home today?" The man straightened up, not sure how to answer. "Mommy said it's because you were visiting a friend," the boy continued, staring up at him with dark eyes that could only have come from his father.

The man gave a small smile and finished pulling the covers up to the boys' chin. "Mommy's right."

"Is your friend sick? Is that why you're sad?"

"No, honey, Daddy's just sad because he doesn't see his friend very often."

"Why not?"

The man looked away, searching for the right answer. "Because he lives far away," he said finally, "and only comes around once a year." The man picked up a stuffed dinosaur from the floor and tucked it under the boy's arm. Then, kissing the boy gently on the forehead, he got up and turned off the lights.

"Daddy?" The man turned around, hand on the doorknob. "Can I meet him, your friend?"

The small smile returned to man's face. "Someday when you're older I'll take you, Alex, I promise."

The End.