Billie-Jo felt her stomach, where the muscles tensed and unclenched beneath her fingers. Joel wasn't sleeping, so he crawled up next to her and put an arm around his partner.

"Y'know, even if we are sick and dying, we'll have passed basic training and we'll be, technically, agents. Albeit, dangerously ill ones."

"Every ray of sunshine, eh?" Billie-Jo couldn't help but smile. Before she started basic training, she could only think of the miserable 100 days that were surely going to plague the rest of her living life, but Joel had a habit of seeing the good in everything. Whenever she was being sick from exhaustion, or threatening to quit, he'd nudge her and say things like 'C'mon, only so-many days left,' or 'at least you won't be burping up fishy-tasting soup anymore.'

Joel had become her best friend. He had seen her in so many moods, in so many states, she couldn't imagine life without him. He was the pillar of strength she lost at eight years old when her parents were killed on holiday in Thailand. The fact that they possibly had Malaria together only made her feel closer to the boy.

"Hey, whatcha gonna do first when you get back to campus, other than the usual move room and put on eight stone?" Joel's voice seemed far away and Billie jolted out of her half-sleep.

"Erm, not sure. Go see everyone I suppose. Partay." As a yawn took control of her mouth, she stretched until her back clicked a couple times.

"Typical. Who're you gonna see?"

"What d'ya mean, typical?!"

"Nothing." Joel muttered gently, as if trying to soothe a nightmare-traumatised toddler. "Carry on.."

Billie huffed, but it was just an act, so she answered the question. She did find it difficult to name more than a few people, though, and felt her cheeks warm at her lack of popularity. It's not that she wanted to be popular, she just felt lonely when people named more friends than she could count.

"Er, Jen, Sam, Kelly, Marcus, Kim, Mike.." Truth was, only Jenni and Sam were her real friends. The rest were people she just talked to in lessons, sat next by if there were an empty seat. Sam and Jen were popular enough, but Billie-Jo was always the quiet one.

Another great thing about Joel: he could sense when others were comfortable and whether or not to press the matter. Billie could see the young boy becoming a therapist or counsellor.

"Nah, I'm gonna throw my own party, everyone invited. Strangers, lovers, grey-shirts, navy, black, everyone."

Billie raised her eyebrow; she was awake now that she was talking, much to her annoyance, but it seemed Joel wanted to evade sleep.

"Lovers? We're twelve-"

"I know a girl who got her pregnant at twelve-"

"Yeah, but it wasn't you who got her up the duff."

"Just because I'm a loveless young soul, doesn't mean everyone else is."

A small smile. "Point taken."

As silence fell, Billie could feel sleep pull down her eyelids. She expected dreams of either floating beds and singing angels, or nightmares of tomorrows tortures, but she just fell into blackness. Joel was saying something, eons away, but she was too far under to pay attention.

"Wake up, cherubs, you're meant to be vigilant! You have four minutes to be up and changed and in the main room!"

Pike's voice was 10 times worse than the world's most annoying alarm clock. It signalled, not only getting up, but one more day of exhaustion and pain. If they failed today, they'd have to start all over again. Billie couldn't handle that; it took her just barely enough to push herself to take it the first time. If she failed, she'd quit and start a new life somewhere else.

After quickly peeing, changing and exchanging a quick, brief smile with Joel, who looked apprehensive, the ten trainees stood infront of the three men who had made their life hell. Kazakov, Pike and Speaks. They glared down at the kids in front of them, their faces a picture of disgust.

"Right, you want to be soldiers, agents, mission-worthy boys and girls?!" Kazakov bellowed, walking infront of the children like a king giving his army a pre-battle talk. "Well, you won't be unless you make it through this course!"

The cherubs sighed with relief; they ran assault courses everyday, this was surely hardly any different.

"But this course is much different from the one back on campus," Pike began, his voice softer but just as menacing. It made him seem, sickeningly, in love with the barbaric assault course. "This course has eighteen more jumps, eleven climbs, two shooting ranges, five eight metre swims, two bomb detonations, and a ten kilometre run at the end, not to mention the running between each section and the various exercises you must do when the shout goes up."

Billie-Jo felt her body shudder and trumble with reluctance and the urge to cry. It was almost overwhelming at how tired and weak she felt, but a night's solid's sleep had refreshed her. If she did this straight after walking in the day before, she would've cried and given up.

The course would be hell, and if she had malaria, she was about to find out. All the exercise would make her tired, which would lower her defenses and she would probably end up collapsing. But she was going to take the risk. Joel, however, next to her, looked like he was going to throw up all over his shoes. He looked pale and his eyes were bloodshot, like he was stopping himself from crying.

Billie grabbed his hand and held it as they followed the instructors. Not only was the course exhausting in cool, breezy conditions, the weather was boiling hot, reaching above the thirties.

It took two and a half hours to complete the course, with the instuctors shouting random exercises every ten minutes. It was hell. The sun beat down on them relentlessly and Billie spent the last forty-five minutes of the course feeling woozy, wanting to curl up and sleep. Joel kept tripping over his own boots when his leg muscles decided to give themselves a break and the two kids ended up doing twenty extra push-ups or thirty crunches.

When they finished, they piled onto the green grass at the end and drank from the large water bottles lined up on a table. Billie used one and a half to soak herself and drank the rest. Her breathing was hard, her lungs threatening to give up. She couldn't even be bothered to shield her eyes. Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribcage and it hurt to move.

After a ten minute rest, the trainees were called to attention. They stood in a weary line as the instructors congratulated them and handed them grey shirts. Billie could barely smile and crumpled to the floor three seconds after the shirt was handed to her.