Well, I certainly didn't expect to be back here so soon! In all honesty I should be studying for mock exams and planning my eighteenth (On Saturday - ye-ah!) but i have decided to forego all that stupid stuff and write another AR fic!

Now for all those that read Valour, this is a companion to that fic itself - but all those others bear in mind that this can be read as a stand alone fic!

So without further ado, I bring you my latest AR fic!

And the standard I can't have Alex as my bitch because that's child molestation disclaimer.

Hope you enjoy and have the time to review!

Every Friday, Jack would go into town.

The boys would meet her there after school (because Tom had begun living with her and Alex ever since his parents had split shortly after his eighteenth birthday) and they'd go for coffee, then separate for the remainder of the afternoon so that she could do some shopping and the boys could have some time to catch up - seeing as Alex was spending an increasing amount of time away now.

She knew he had made the decision to keep working for the government of his own accord - and she respected him for actually possessing the guts to make such a life-changing choice really - but it didn't stop her from worrying about him, or from making sure that he stayed within easy contact of her at all times. Tom too.

There was something to be said about the wonders of cell-phones.

But hers was at home today - she'd decided she didn't really need it with her, it was just one more thing to weigh her down. But it didn't matter all that much, the boys were always fairly responsible. And Alex had a direct link to MI6 now that he was an actual paid agent so if anything happened, he only had to press a button. Also, the fact that on his latest mission he had apparently won a fight against the next Mr Universe (who he said must have been on a huge amount of steroids and growth hormones because he outweighed him three-to-one) and an electrified cattle prod helped soothe her nerves a little too.

So, when they didn't meet her at the bus stop on time, Jack wasn't really worried.

They were always late anyway, (typical males) and it was only another half hours wait for the next ride to the stop near their house, so she sat down and began flipping through the magazine she had just bought. She knew they wouldn't be far away, they were either on top of a roof nearby talking (they always did because it meant Alex could talk about his latest escapades without being overheard - (thanks to MI6 security), or at the arcade just down the street - so she wouldn't be waiting long.

She was in the middle of the latest fashions section when she heard it.

Sirens, screaming towards her - ambulances and police cars alike weaving through the late afternoon traffic, red and blue lights reflecting off the metallic lettering naming the building directly across the street from her.

Royal and General Bank.

It was then she began to get nervous.

What if Tom and Alex were on the roof next door? She automatically reached for her phone, then remembered it wasn't there. Was it them?

No, it couldn't be.

Alex was too careful. He wouldn't allow anything to happen to Tom. Or himself.

He wouldn't.

Officers rushed past her as she stood and began to cross the already crowded street, one of them knocking her down onto the pavement. There was shouting, and guns coming out of nowhere and all of a sudden there was paramedics running past her too, stretchers clattering across rough asphalt and up stairs.

Something caught her eye and she glanced up, gasping at the silhouette of a man with a gun crouched on the roof of the building behind her, the end of the barrel pointing at the building next to the Royal and General.

No. Not them.

They had to be somewhere, surely. God, where were they?

She hauled herself back to her feet, magazine falling to the ground as she turned frantically, looking for that unmistakable fair hair and the too-serious eyes that made it easy to spot Alex anywhere.


Fair hair emerged from the crowd forming and she gasped, almost drunk with relief.


It wasn't him.

Her knees weakened and she would have dropped to the pavement again if it weren't for a man beside her catching her on instinct, and she wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked back and forth as police began herding the rest of the crowd behind a yellow and black tape.

Where was Alex?

There was movement, stretchers coming out of the building - paramedics crouched over one of them, the other covered by a white sheet, a sombre looking youth wheeling it towards the ambulances.

Oh, god.

She dropped to her knees and crawled under the tape, barely registering an officer's hand on her elbow and him asking her to leave the area as the stretchers drew closer and she caught a glimpse of brown hair poking out from above a bandage stained with blood.

Was it Tom?

Someone called her name and she allowed herself to be dragged to her feet as she responded shakily, her gaze falling on the brown haired boy as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position.

God, it was. Where was Alex? Where was he?

Tom's eyes met hers as the stretcher tilted into the ambulance, and she stumbled back into the officer behind her as she caught sight of the blood and the tears running down his face, her gaze blearily flickering to the lifeless form under the sheet.

No… not Alex. Never Alex.

She fainted.

The rest was a blur. There was a hospital and sterile wards and an uncomfortable bed and police and blood and Alex's lifeless face staring up at her from a metal table. Talk of guns and assassins and MI6 and some man in a grey suit telling her he was sorry and the stinging sensation across her palm as she struck him for a reason that she couldn't remember.

There was Tom - curled up under starched sheets and sobbing as he realised Alex was dead.


She walked the several kilometres distance to the house after signing discharge papers she couldn't see through tears - ignoring the offers of cabs and police escorts - and dumped her bag by the door as she automatically went to take her phone off charge and put the jug on. She stared unseeingly at the kitchen bench as it boiled, and woke from her stupor at the click of the switch.

Tea was poured, milky and sweet (just how Alex liked it now) and she carried it up the stairs, intent on giving it to him before he fell asleep, listening to her voicemail on the way.

One new message. Received today at 5:17 p.m.

"Jack - Jack, it's Tom. Something's happened...oh god, Alex, god - Jack, we need help. Jack, please, he's not breathing. Alex…he's not…he's not breathing..."

It was then that she realised that Alex wasn't there, he wasn't coming home.

The tea dropped to the floor and she screamed.

Well, there it is. I think I may have epic failed at that one. But maybe you might have possibly enjoyed it and have the time to leave a review? Please?