Declassified file for kennahijja

[spyfestadmin]

Author: k155_me
Recipient: kennahijja
Title: Thlipsis
Characters: Yassen/Alex. (Yassen, Alex, Ian, Julian Rothman, Nile, Mrs. Jones, Mr. Blunt)
Summary: Kidnapped by Yassen and raised by Scorpia, Alex Rider is the world's youngest assassin. When a mission takes an unexpected turn, MI6 sends Ian Rider to bring him home. Alex would rather die than work for the people who he thinks killed his father, but the choice is about to be taken out of Alex's hands. It's kill or be killed, and the time to choose has run out. AU.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Alex Rider characters herein are the property of Anthony Horowitz and the Penguin Group. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Slash, Underage, Dub-Con, Torture, Angst, Character Death, YG/AR, AU, Language, Incest
Word Count: ~21,400
Author's Notes: I'm a fan of my recipient, so I'm terrified that ‘they-who-shall-not-be-named' (:P) will hate it. Please don't hate it? Self-esteem fail, sigh! Also, epic thank you to A. and P. for being amazing betas!

THLIPSIS, PART 1


April 5th 2001.

Ian Rider had managed to talk his bosses into stashing Yassen in his own home. The Russian had listened incredulously: unable to believe what he was hearing, unable to deny that he actually was hearing it. It was outrageous. Rider was actively luring a known assassin to his personal home by using another assassin as bait? And MI6 was letting him!

"Alex will come for him," Ian had promised. "We want Alex to come for him, remember. Please, just let him come." Ian knew what he was doing. He believed that if Alex were anything like John had been there was no way that Alex would kill a family member, never, not for anyone. He just needed a chance to tell Alex the truth. Just a few moments, that was all, and then Alex could come home to him. Ian knew, just as Alan Blunt did, that if Alex were captured by MI6 first he would rather go down fighting than surrender. But if Ian spoke to him, and if Alex listened, every thing could be different.

Ian would have his family back.

Yassen's arms were tied above his head with wire. When Yassen had struggled, the wire had cut into his wrists and blood had flowed sluggishly down his arms. Ian had taken a few moments to clean him up and cover the cuts, and warned Yassen not to try slitting his wrists again. That hadn't been the Russian's intention; he had been testing his restraints, trying to calculate his chances of escaping, but he had said nothing in response to Rider's teasing.

He turned to stare at Ian.

"You will leave Alex alone," Yassen said after an hour of uncomfortable silence.

The housekeeper moved around downstairs, tidying or cooking or doing whatever Ian paid her to do. Upstairs, both men had been in the same room for over an hour, sitting tense and silent and hyper-aware of each other.

"I would never hurt Alex," Ian whispered. "I believe I'm quite like you in that respect."

"We are nothing alike. I did not betray my family." Yassen turned his head away, missing the confused expression that stole over Ian's face.

"You don't know!" Ian breathed. He should have guessed, he supposed. Since Ian had found out that Alex was alive, Alan and Tulip had continually assured him that Yassen would never hurt Alex. He should have known that Yassen still cared for John. He would never remain working for the people who had truly killed the man. Ian could relate to him. They really were quite similar. For years, Yassen had believed that he and Mrs. Jones were the murderers of his closest friend. Similarly, Ian had believed that the man bound and helpless before him had tortured and murdered his infant nephew. There were so many possibilities for revenge, with Yassen tied up before him, but now Ian knew better. He knew the truth and it was time for Yassen to as well.

"I know enough!" the assassin spat, turning back to glare at the agent. "You betrayed him. If you touch Alex I will kill you." Blue eyes hardened as they met Ian's, and the elder man just smiled softly in response.

"They talk of a man betraying his country, his friends, his family. There must be a moral bond first. All a man can betray is his conscience," Ian quoted softly, not bothering to defend himself. When Alex arrived, there would be time enough to tell them the truth.6

Yassen bared his teeth, his face contorted with anger and hate. Ian pitied him. He could sympathise, he supposed: so much time wasted needlessly hating someone. Yassen was not the target for his hatred, not really. No one had killed Alex and the boy had grown up unharmed, physically at least. But John! John was still dead and replacing the faces of his killers would not change that fact. Yassen was entitled to keep his anger, but anger was a destructive force and seeking revenge against Scorpia, no matter how justified, was a destructive action. Ian pitied the man before him, the man whose life and beliefs were about to change so drastically, and he wouldn't even have Alex to help him through it.

Ian would be keeping Alex.

The phone rang downstairs. Jack, Ian's housekeeper called up to him, breaking the horrid silence. "Phone, Ian! It's the bank!" she shouted.

"Don't go anywhere," Ian quipped before he slipped from of the room. Yassen heard the front door slam a moment later and then a car engine turned over outside.

Yassen was in the larger of the two spare bedrooms. It might have belonged to Alex, had Ian been the one to raise the boy. Yassen clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. The thought of Alex being left alone with that man, in this house, made his stomach twist, and he was so very thankful that he had chosen to follow the suspicious-looking black car from Liverpool Street to Cheyne Walk thirteen years ago.

Yassen tensed. He heard the front door open and close. He heard the housekeeper's shocked cry and then the familiar soft ‘phut' of a bullet through a silencer. Jack's body hit the floor, and Yassen heard footsteps as someone made their way slowly up the stairs.

"Hello маленький ангел," Yassen whispered as Alex closed the bedroom door behind himself.4

A wide smile spread itself across Alex's face and his eyes brightened. "Hello lover," he greeted, as he bent over Yassen's head to cut away the wire that bound him to the headboard.

Yassen rotated his hands slowly, rubbing at his wrists to get the blood circulation flowing properly again. His legs had been left untied. He swung them easily to the side and slid off of the bed. The moment he was standing, he pressed himself against Alex's back, with his lips on Alex's neck. He kissed lightly down the column of Alex's throat.

"Mmm, thank you," he whispered between kisses, "my hero." Alex melted back against Yassen's chest with a low moan, arching his neck to offer more of his throat to the assassin. "How can I ever repay you?" Yassen teased, his hands running up the sides of Alex's legs, pulling them apart so that he could settle comfortably between them.

Alex pulled away. He half-turned his body towards Yassen but the Russian's hand on Alex's shoulder twisted him back again.

"Yassen no," Alex hissed, bucking lightly. "Now isn't the time." Yassen ignored him. With a scowl, Alex reached behind to shove at Yassen's chest, "We have to go."

"Now is the perfect time," Yassen insisted. One hand grabbed Alex by the short hairs at the base of his skull, and he tugged the boy forward, knocking him onto the bed. Yassen moved behind him, pinning Alex in place with his own body. He had the boy bent over the side of the bed. Alex shoved back at him but Yassen's grip on his hair tightened and Alex stopped struggling.

"Here is the perfect place." Fucking Ian's nephew in what should have been Alex's room: it was too good an opportunity to stick it to Ian Rider for Yassen to pass up.

"Yassen! Please!" Alex shouted. He began panting softly, as Yassen reached beneath him to palm the bulge in his trousers. "We need to go."

"No. You need to take off your clothing."

The Russian's hands busied themselves undressing Alex. The boy didn't struggle as Yassen pulled his t-shirt over his head, and he pushed his hips back, aiding Yassen in slipping off his trousers. When the elder man bent to remove Alex's shoes and socks Alex made no attempt to escape. He lay there compliantly, and it was only when he heard the sound of Yassen's zipper opening that he began to protest again.

3"Seriously, моя любовь, we must go. Don't… ah… I said don't!" A finger probed his entrance, rough and dry, and Alex pushed back against it, seeking more. "We can't, we, stop! Oh god!" Above him, Yassen chuckled lightly, his face pressed to the back of Alex's neck, his lips brushing soft kisses to the skin within reach. "Do that again," Alex commanded, and Yassen added a third finger within him.

Yassen removed his hand, licking over his fingers. He stared down at Alex with a curious smile on his mouth. Alex turned his head, a groan of protest forcing its way passed chapped, trembling lips. "Do you really wish me to stop?"

"If you dare, I'll never let you touch me again!" Alex hissed, his eyes narrowing.

Yassen chuckled again, having expected that answer. He pushed three fingers into Alex without warning. The boy arched off of the bed, moaning loudly, before pressing his hips down against the sheets seeking friction. "Be still," Yassen commanded, and Alex instantly stopped moving, lying completely, frustratingly still as Yassen fucked him with his fingers. "Do you want me to stop, Alex?"

"God no. Don't stop. Fuck me, fuck me please?"

"Are you certain?" Yassen's lips twitched. He freed himself from his trousers with his other hand. He jerked his hips forward, letting the tip of his erection brush lightly against one cheek of Alex's arse. "Is this what you want, ангел?"4

"Yes, yes, I want this, I want you. Please, oh, please." Yassen listened to him begging breathlessly for a moment, before pulling his fingers out slowly, smirking when Alex groaned as they dragged against his prostate. "You bastard!" Alex shrieked, as Yassen left him empty and wanting. "Fuck me already!"

"As you wish."

He pushed forward, his cock sinking into the tight warmth offered up before him. Yassen let his head drop forward onto Alex's shoulder blade with a strangled groan. It had been so long, far too long since the last time he had touched Alex. He hadn't even seen the boy in six weeks, not since before he'd begun the Stormbreaker mission, and before then Yassen had been too injured to indulge himself in the pleasures of Alex's body. It had been a while, but it had definitely been worth the wait. The feel of Alex was everything he remembered it to be, except he was tighter than the last time Yassen had taken him. Almost two months without being used, Yassen remembered. It had been almost two months.

"Fuck," Alex grunted beneath him as Yassen pulled out and pushed back in again. Alex jerked his hips back and forth in time with the Russian's thrusts, rocking his cock against the cotton bedding that felt oh-so-good against his swollen erection.

Yassen muttered something into the hollow between Alex's shoulders. While not having heard him, Alex knew what had been said.

"Love you too," he whispered, turning his head against the pillow, pressing his face down to muffle his cries as Yassen struck his prostate again. "Love you."

Yassen kissed his neck and his back, arching into him, covering him and pressing down on him. Every part of Alex was touching Yassen, and the teenager panted at the thought of belonging entirely to one person. No one else had ever touched him. Yassen would never have allowed it, and he had never wanted it. The thoughts of being with Yassen, of being his entirely, made Alex's cock throb with excitement, and he ground his hips against the bed frantically.

Yassen's free hand crept between Alex and the sheets, circling the neediest part of Alex's anatomy. He jerked Alex off roughly. The boy gasped in pain a handful of times, but loved every moment and every feeling because it was Yassen inflicting it on him. When he came, he cried out Yassen's name loudly, throwing his head back and thrusting into Yassen's tight fist. The muscles in his arse convulsed, squeezing and unclenching around Yassen's cock as the assassin roughly fucked the body beneath him. The hand that was sticky with Alex's come dug into the bed sheets beside the boy's head. He clamped his free hand around Alex's hip hard enough to bruise. Yassen came shortly after: the tightness and warmth of Alex overwhelming him. He tugged Alex's face to the side for a sloppy kiss as his hips jerked and he orgasmed within his teenage lover.

"Alex," he breathed, as he drew out slowly. Alex whimpered at the feeling, cringing at the obscene noise as Yassen separated their bodies. "Love."

Alex could hear the accent in Yassen's voice. He smiled, rolling out from under the fully dressed man and tugging him back down on top of him. His bare legs wrapped around Yassen's waist and his arms locked around Yassen's neck. "Say it again."

"I love you, Alex." The accent faded as Yassen regained control over his body, but before he could completely compose himself Alex dragged him into a kiss. It was wet and vicious and Yassen bit at Alex's bottom lip savagely. He pressed Alex possessively down onto the bed, as he claimed the child's mouth for his own. Yassen's right hand wandered downwards, but Alex caught his wrist firmly.

"We really can't. I won't let you distract me again." Alex managed to keep a straight face but he couldn't stop the longing from seeping into his voice. He wanted Yassen to touch him again, but they just didn't have time.

"Alex," Yassen said warningly. He broke free of Alex's grip, and grabbed hold of Alex's cock, stroking the organ until it hardened.

Alex panted, fair hair falling into his eyes. He looked up at Yassen half-lidded. "Please stop." Yassen didn't. He stroked faster, wringing a low groan from the boy. "I can't… this is a mission!" He finally managed to say, but only after he was brought to orgasm.

Yassen paused, half way through licking the come off of his fingers. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" He was composed and businesslike in the blink of an eye. Yassen zipped up his pants, straightened his shirt and turned to the teenager. "Get dressed, Alex. What was your mission?"

"To rescue you?" The boy fiddled with his socks, turning them inside out before pulling them on one after the other, and then he tugged up his trousers.

"I would say I have been sufficiently rescued. What else?" Yassen handed his t-shirt over, and Alex gratefully accepted it.

"If you were dead or had been tortured then I was to kill Rider. Nile is waiting at the motel for us. He's supposed to tell me the rest of the plan when we get back."

"Nile is here?" There was something off about Yassen's voice again, and it was unexpected enough that Alex snapped his head up. He met wide blue eyes, and realized that Yassen was afraid! "Where?" He grabbed Alex by the shoulders, and shook him lightly.

"The motel Ernesto and I booked after Sayle's arrest. Nile and I are using the same room."

"You're alone?" Yassen questioned. None of his weapons were here. They had remained behind at the Royal and General. The Russian felt half-naked without them. "Do you have a gun?"

Alex handed over a loaded Glock; the silencer was still attached. He had left it down on the bookcase when he had entered the room, along with a hunting knife. "I'm not alone with him. You're here now. We really need to go though. They've arranged to exchange us tomorrow morning, and I bet you anything that Scorpia are planning to double cross Blunt!"

Alex turned to grin at him, but ended up frowning. Yassen stared back at him, his head tilted to one side, and calmly said, "They are not the only ones Scorpia plan to double cross."

Brown eyes narrowed. "What?" Alex took a step back, his hand moving instinctively to grab the knife he had also brought.

Yassen's eyes closed, his fists clenched at his sides. He prepared himself to tell Alex what he had heard of Julia's plan. He opened his mouth. Then snapped it closed again.

Ian Rider was framed in the bedroom doorway, his gun pointed at Yassen. In his free hand was a mobile phone. "Going somewhere?" he said, grinning.

XXX

April 5th 2001. Same day.

Ian didn't know how he had done it. He was quite sure he didn't want to know. After all, how does one actually manage to sneak into MI6's headquarters, tap the phone line of the Head of Operations, and place a call from a different place while making it appear to have come from Alan Blunt's office? Ian didn't know how he had done it, but Alex Rider had done it. He had impersonated Mr. Blunt. Ian had driven from his house to Liverpool Street, doing far more than an acceptable speed, and had left Yassen Gregorovich alone with Jack.

It had been a ploy. A very clever trick, he had to admit. While he was gone, arguing with several secretaries and lower-downs who were all insisting that Alan had gone to see the Prime Minister, that Alan wasn't in his office, that Alan didn't want to see him, Alex had broken into his house and murdered his housekeeper.

Ian had got himself home as quickly as possible. He broke every Road Traffic law that he could name but he had still been too late.

Jack Starbright's body was sprawled across the bottom two steps of the staircase, her red hair fanned over her pale, dead face. Wide eyes stared up at him accusingly through the curtain of her hair, and Ian turned his face away in disgust. He couldn't even hate Alex for doing it. He couldn't hate Alex, ever, no matter what evils the boy committed.

Scorpia had made him do it.

Ian pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding down the number ‘9' until it started ringing. He didn't hold it to his ear; there was no need. It was the agent's emergency services number, and as long as Ian kept on the line MI6 would be able to track his phone signal back to the house. Response time when the number ‘9' was dialled was less than ten minutes. He just had to keep Alex talking for ten minutes. He had to stop Gregorovich from escaping.

There were voices upstairs, muffled but urgent. While Ian would have liked to listen in and learn all he could, he was far more theatrical than John had ever been. At the top of the stairs, he paused. Covert was one thing, and suspicious another. But a real spy did it like James Bond!

He kicked at the bedroom door, and it smashed inwards, bouncing off of the wall. Gun cocked, he pointed it at the Russian's chest. His phone was still held loosely in his free hand. He placed it down on top of the bookcase beside him, smiling slightly at Alex. "Going somewhere?"

Alex sighed. "Well at least he knows how to make an entrance."

Yassen took a step forward, and raised his own gun.

Ian clicked the safety off on his. "Sit on the bed."

Alex sat down. Almost immediately, Yassen moved in front of him, but still didn't sit. The assassin didn't think Ian would kill Alex but he wasn't taking any chances on his lover getting hurt because of him. Alex had wanted to leave, but Yassen had kept them there. This was his fault, and if anyone would suffer for it he'd rather it be him.

"You should be careful with that," Yassen said softly, eyes never leaving Ian's face. "Wouldn't want to cause an accident."

"It isn't an accident if I meant to shoot you." Brown eyes mocked him, pale pink lips twisted into a wry smile. Ian flicked his wrist in Alex's direction, twisting his body to half-point around the assassin, and then switched the gun's safety back on. "But you're right," he drawled, "I wouldn't want to hurt Alex."

Mostly hidden from sight, Alex pulled his t-shirt off over his head and dropped it on the bed behind him. He had done this plenty of times in the past. There was no reason for him to suddenly feel uncomfortable. His age and his body had gotten him out of some very sticky situations in the past, and Alex had never had a problem flaunting himself before. This time should have felt the same as ever other time: clinical, necessary and impersonal. But instead his hands were shaking as they popped open the button on his jeans, and his heart hammered in his chest as he nudged Yassen aside.

"What do you want, Rider?" Alex asked, his voice soft and smooth. He slid from the bed, gracefully rising to his feet. Alex walked forward slowly, swinging his hips teasingly.

There was a resemblance between Ian and him, and that was what was making Alex nervous he realized. Not only did they share the same surname, but also they shared similar features. Someone would have told him if he had a living relative out in the world somewhere, wouldn't they? Surely they would have. Alex brushed the concern aside. He had to play his part.

"What exactly can I do for you?" A sexy smile fitted itself on Alex's mouth, the edges turning up. His lips barely parted from one another before Alex flicked his tongue out to moisten them.

Behind him, Yassen went rigid with jealousy. Ian blinked, his face drawn and pale, and he watched in confusion as his nephew sauntered towards him. The boy was practically chest-to-chest with him by the time he managed to react. "Stop that!"

Alex smirked. He reached out with one hand, gently trailing his fingers down Ian's chest until they rested just above the waistline of his pants. Looking coyly up at Ian through his eyelashes, Alex breathed, "Do you really mean that?"

He placed a soft kiss to Ian's cheek. As the man went to shove him back Alex reached out with both hands, grabbing Ian's wrists lightening quick and pressed his mouth to the elder man's.

"Tell me what you want." He moved forward again, pressing a bolder kiss to Ian's mouth and the man couldn't stop himself from responding. Alex panted against Ian's lips when they broke apart, "Tell me what you need." He let go of one wrist, moving his hand to press against the bulge in Ian's trousers. "What can I do for you, Agent Rider?"

Ian shook his head, his eyes squeezing closed. It was the sound of his title that had awakened his senses, and he shoved Alex back viciously. For one moment he didn't care about hurting the child. All he cared about was getting away from the boy - his nephew - who he suddenly and undeniably wanted to fuck.

"I need to tell you the truth!" Ian shouted his hands clenched at his sides. "And don't, don't do that again!"

"People never mean it when they say stop. Not people like us anyway." Alex tilted his head to one side as he spoke, studying the fair-haired man curiously. "We say ‘no' but what we really mean is ‘god yes, but I'm not supposed to want this'. It's a form of denial you know, and we all indulge in it. Myself included. In fact, it was minutes ago that I was begging Yassen to stop." Alex allowed his lips to curve upwards, loving the green tinge that spread across Ian's cheeks. "Luckily for me, Yassen doesn't take no for an answer." Alex licked his lips obscenely. Behind him Yassen chuckled.

"That is enough." Ian took a deep breath. He didn't want to hear anymore, he didn't even want to think about what Alex had been implying. It was the same lie Mr. Blunt had told Felix before sending him to Cornwall. Had Ian's employers known the truth and failed to tell him yet another secret regarding his nephew, or had they been making a wild but accurate guess? His head hurt just thinking about all of the lies that surrounded his life, and while usually he hated them, this one time he was fine with being lied to. He had no desire to know if Alex really was fucking a man twenty-one years his senior.

"I need to speak to you Alex," he said.

"So speak. It's a free country. I'm not promising to listen though."

Ian's lips twitched. Alex sounded just like he had many, many years ago when John had first decided to join the army and Ian had refused to let him explain his choices. The similarities between them made his chest hurt. He took a step towards the boy and smiled sadly. "You don't need to listen now, Alex. I have the rest of our lives to tell you. You aren't going anywhere."

"The hell I'm not!" Alex hissed, "I have places to be."

"MI6 has already deployed a response team. They'll be here in probably a minute or two. You aren't going anywhere Alex." He cut a quick glance at Yassen, "Neither of you are."

"The hell I'm not," Alex muttered again. The thought of staying here, of having no choice but to remain here, surrounded by all of the people who had conspired to kill John Rider made Alex feel sick. His stomach felt like it had been tied into knots, and he swallowed heavily, gritting his teeth. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't. MI6 would use him, twist him, and force him to hurt people that he cared about. They'd take his life into their hands and destroy him just as they had destroyed his father. But his death would take years. It would be years of working for his enemy, instead of just a quick shot in the back. Alex squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. Then coming to a decision, he opened them again. He'd rather die here than go with them willingly.

Alex lunged forward, tackling Ian around the waist and knocking them both to the floor. He had to wrestle the gun out of the older man's hands, and when Alex stood back up, untangling his legs from Ian's, he cradled the gun lovingly between both of his hands.

Ian raised his palms, fingers spread wide, and he looked up at Alex imploringly. "Put down the gun, Alex," he whispered.

Instead of pointing the gun at Ian, as the man had thought Alex would do, the child held it against his own temple.

"I'd rather die than stay with the people who killed my father." His voice was cold, his jaw clenched, and his hands had finally stopped shaking. Alex had one finger on the trigger, and his other hand hung limply by his side. Yassen reached forward for it, clasping it gently in his own while his other hand moved to point his own gun at the fallen spy.

"Ok! Ok! Don't!" Ian screamed, holding his hands up unthreateningly. He lay back on the floor, placing his arms slowly down by his sides. Alex's hand trembled as he lowered the gun. "Go," Ian whispered.

"You're letting us go?" Alex's voice shook, filled with disbelief.

"Go." Ian said. He turned his face away, unable to watch as Alex was taken out of his life again. Yassen pulled the child forward, all but shoving him down the stairs and out of Ian's front door.

Alex still held the gun in his hand, and in a few hours when Ian finally noticed it was missing he would laugh. It had been his favourite gun and he had asked Mr. Smithers to place a tracking device within it.

XXX

April 7th 2001.

Alex had wanted to go back to the motel. He had wanted to give Nile and Mrs. Rothman the benefit of the doubt, because after all they had helped to raise him and train him and make him who he was. Not to mention that he had left his possessions behind when he had gone to rescue Yassen. While they were mostly things that he could replace, one or two of them had sentimental value, gifts from Yassen and such, that he liked to bring with him when he left home.

Yassen had convinced him that they were best left behind. With his mouth and his fingers and his tongue, Yassen had convinced Alex to avoid the motel for now and to avoid Nile completely. Just as they would avoid any British government official.

The arranged swap-over could not take place without either Alex or Yassen present. The two assassins had taken precautions to keep themselves completely below radar until that day and the one after it had passed. It was only when the sun had finished setting that Yassen looked over at Alex and nodded.

They would treat this as a general cooling-off period; the same Ernesto and Alex had been treated to after the Stormbreaker assignment had failed. When a mission goes wrong, you hole up somewhere with your partner and you wait. If it is not safe, if you feel you are in danger (and Yassen most certainly felt Alex was) then you wait. When it is safe, you ignore all previous orders and make your way back to Malagosto, unless an agent is already en route to collect you.

If Nile complained, Yassen was sure they would be able to avoid any serious repercussions by claiming that they had been following standard protocol. Once they were back at Malagosto everything would be fine. There were eleven other governing members to seek protection from, after all. Mrs. Rothman did not control Scorpia alone. They would be safe once they were home.

Of course, Yassen did not know that Julia had changed her plan. He still thought she out and out wanted Alex dead. He did not know that she would only kill him if he failed his mission. Yassen was well aware that failing a serious mission and endangering another operative because of that failure was a crime punishable by death in the eyes of all of Scorpia's founding members.

Unfortunately for them, Nile knew that Ian Rider was still alive.

When Yassen and Alex left the B&B they had been staying in, Nile was waiting for them outside. He fired at Yassen first, the bullet ripping through his thigh. The shot had been carefully aimed to miss any major arteries but to bring Yassen down with just one bullet. Ian's gun was tucked into Alex's belt, and the boy fumbled to pull it out. The sight of Yassen falling face first to the ground, blood pooling around him as he gasped in pain and surprise, had been enough to stun the teenager momentarily. By the time he had the gun out and cocked, Nile was already on him. Black hands closed around Alex's throat, thumbs pressing down just beneath the chin and Alex felt his head swim. He panted and kicked wildly, trying desperately to buck the larger man off of him. Nile merely grinned down at him as he squeezed Alex's throat harder.

Alex's vision swam, his eyes blurring in and out of focus. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Nile's eyes bulging out of his sockets, his teeth flashing white. He reminded Alex of Judge Doom, just before he died.7

XXX

April 8th 2001.

When Alex woke up, he wasn't sure how much time had passed.

He blinked slowly, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness of the room. His shoulders hurt, his muscles burning from being stretched above his head all night, and Alex tugged futilely on the chains that hung from the ceiling and wrapped twice around each wrist. There was just enough slack for him to stand flat-footed on the ground, and with a frown he realized he had no shoes on. As he looked down, he gasped, noting with anger that he was completely naked.

He hated it when people undressed him while he was unconscious.

He didn't appear to be in worse condition than he last remembered, other than the painful bruises on his throat. Those had been newly inflicted by Nile, and they made it hurt to breathe. Alex swallowed down a groan, remembering with embarrassment exactly what he had been doing with Yassen before they had left the B&B. The evidence of that was probably flaked on his inner thighs, and no doubt Nile had seen it.

He dragged his mind away from that thought. Everyone at Scorpia knew what he and Yassen got up to in their personal time. It wasn't like Nile hadn't known as well. There were more important things to worry about, Alex reminded himself.

He looked around, noting the metal gurney that had been left just a foot away from him, and covered by a transparent plastic sheet. Being able to see what was hidden beneath it didn't make Alex feel any better about his situation. Knives, and scalpels, and pliers, and Ian's gun, and god was that a screwdriver? Alex fought against the fear that welled up inside of him. It wasn't as if he hadn't been tortured before, he reminded himself mentally. But there was a difference between someone torturing you to prepare you, to help you learn to withstand it, and someone actually torturing you for real, for pleasure. His breath came in short pants. His heart lodged in his throat.

Through his panic he could hear someone whispering, "Calm yourself, ангел."4

Alex took a deep breath and let it out slowly, opening his eyes again. They landed on Yassen, who was tied to a chair to the left of him, and Alex wondered how he hadn't noticed the Russian sooner. The elder man's skin was an unhealthy shade of grey, and his trousers were missing. He was still wearing his boxer shorts and his socks and shoes, but around one thigh was a thick white bandage that blood was already beginning to seep through.

"He didn't want me to die until after I had watched you suffer," Yassen informed him matter-of-factly. His blasé tone was enough to make Alex laugh softly, startled but comforted by Yassen's familiar way of being.

"We need to get out of here," Alex whispered, frantically casting his gaze around the inside of the building. They appeared to be inside of a warehouse, though it was mostly empty apart from some old crates and boxes shoved in the far corner. At the moment, they were alone.

"You are not getting out of those chains, Alex," Yassen told him softly, his eyes sad and blue. "And I can barely walk. We are not escaping."

Above his head, Alex's hands clenched. "No," he insisted. "We need to get out of here."

He didn't believe in no-win situations. Any time he had been captured before, Yassen had come to his rescue, and vice versa on the limited occasions that Yassen found himself a prisoner. They had never both been captured together before now, and in Alex's mind that just meant that while they were together they had double the chance of escaping as they would have had alone.

"Gregorovich is right," Nile said loudly, as the doors swung open. He walked into the room and let the door close behind him, not bothering to lock it. No one knew they were there, not even Mrs. Rothman. "You aren't going anywhere, Alex Rider."

"You can't do this!" Alex spat, eyes narrowed. "You have no right."

"I have every right. You failed a mission and put a valued agent at risk." Nile smirked at him.

"I didn't fail the Stormbreaker mission. I had finished my assignment before Sayle fucked it up!" Alex screamed, coming to the wrong conclusion.

Nile chuckled, coming closer to Alex slowly, a smile spreading across his black and white face. Nile suffered from Vitiligo, a skin coloration disorder, and if he lived past middle-aged, he would die a white man, even though he had been born black. Those that didn't like Nile offered referred to him as ‘the Zebra', an ‘ass with stripes', and while Alex had never used the phrase himself, he could see where they had been coming from. Nile's skin was black and white. And he was an arse.

"No, no, young Alex. I was talking about this mission. But while we're on the subject, did you really shoot a fourteen-year-old boy in the head at point blank range?" Yassen jerked in his seat, eyes flicking to Alex and back to Nile just in time for the man to burst into laughter. "Oh brilliant! Never knew you had it in you. Especially since you were so vocally against dear Herod's plan."

"I have no problem killing children, singular," the teenager said in return. He raised his chin, keeping his eyes fixed on Nile's face, and he blanked all emotion off of his own. He wouldn't give Nile whatever satisfaction he was looking for. Then his eyes narrowed. "What mission?" he asked, remembering what Nile had said. "I rescued Yassen. He was fine, before you shot him."

"You failed to kill Rider."

Yassen and Alex met each other's eyes, both of them trying not to look as shocked as they felt. "Y-You said," Alex stuttered. He stopped, and cleared his throat. "You said to kill him if Yassen had been injured or killed, and he hadn't been."

"Oh Alex. You must not have been listening properly. Pity, since it's going to cost you your life, and his," Nile said, baring his teeth as his grinned. "But yours first." He tugged the plastic off of the gurney and let it drop to the ground. As blotchy fingers skimmed over the various toys laid out on display, Alex couldn't stop his feet from taking several panicked steps back. Above his head the chains swayed heavily, and then went taunt. There was no more give left in them, Alex couldn't get any further away, and Nile had already chosen his weapon of choice and was moving towards Alex with the scalpel held out.

Alex kicked, aiming for Nile's hand, hoping to hit him hard enough to break a few fingers. Nile must have been expecting Alex to lash out, because he twisted his arm out of the way, and then dived forward as Alex went to draw his leg back. The scalpel slashed along the boy's ankle, and the unexpectedness of the cut - the horrid stinging and burning that followed - made Alex cry out.

Nile grunted, lips twitching. "I hoped you wouldn't break this easily." He sounded disappointed. He ran the tip of the surgical blade through the hairs leading from Alex's belly button down to his groin. "I had been looking forward to this for a long time, Alex, and I want you to last." Alex gave another cry as Nile raised his hand; the blade caught him just under the eye, dragging down over his cheek and splitting the skin open. As the blood began to flow, it looked at first as if Alex was crying red tears, and Nile added another cut, a matching one, to Alex's other cheek.

Yassen hissed between his teeth, his narrowed in anger. Alex could see him biting through his bottom lip, trying hard not to provoke the man who held Alex's life in his hands. But it was hard for him, Alex knew. Thinking of Yassen, and not of himself, Alex resolved to try his hardest not to make any noise. Nile didn't deserve to know how scared he was, and Yassen didn't deserve to watch him suffer.

"Please, Sir, can I have some more?" Alex said, giving a breathless chuckle as Nile's eyes narrowed into slits.

"That's more like it," he drawled after a moment. "I think I want to play with the pliers for a while now." The elder man replaced the pliers with the bloody scalpel, and Alex bit down on his tongue, preparing himself for what he knew Nile was going to do. When the first toenail came off Alex barely managed to stop himself from screaming, but he quite couldn't hold back the horrible, gurgling whimper that escaped from his throat. After the third toenail, Alex was crying, sobbing desperately as Nile smashed the bone with the handle of the tool. When Nile finally moved on to Alex's second foot, Yassen had been forced to turn his head away, unable to watch anymore. Alex was hanging in the chains, his wrists and shoulders throbbing from the weight of him hanging limply.

"Stop it," Alex whispered.

"Make me," Nile said. He threw down the pliers, and paused, running his eyes over the other toys he had prepared earlier. The gun would be last, so he skipped over that one. Knives were Alex's favourite weapons, and the irony of breaking the boy using one (one he had stolen from Alex's bedroom in Malagosto to be even more ironic) would be fun, but it could wait until later. There was something else Nile had always wanted to try.

He picked up the screwdriver, rolling it between his palms as he walked around Alex to stand behind the boy. He had to wrap an arm around Alex's neck, keeping the boy's head bent forward so that he wouldn't be able to head-butt him. His other hand reached up, holding the screwdriver, and he pressed the tip of the tool against the webbing of Alex's hand. It took a lot of force, and quite a lot of time and jiggling about, for Nile to force the tip of the screwdriver through the thenar space of Alex's left hand. Muscle and nerves tore and ripped, and this time Alex really did scream. When Nile finally had the screwdriver pushed all the way through, Alex had already lost consciousness.

XXX

April 9th 2001.

When Alex woke next, there was no gurney in sight, but his back and his ribs and his chest hurt like a bitch. He looked down, and all of the skin he could see in the places that hurt were a mixture of black, blue and purple bruises. Nile must have worked Alex over while he was out cold. He twisted his neck, trying to look over his shoulders to glimpse his back, but it made his arm sockets and his ribs grind painfully, so he stopped. It was harder to breathe that it had been yesterday, and Alex was rather afraid that Nile might have fractured or broken one of his ribs.

If Alex got out of this mess alive it was going to be an unpleasant experience having his broken bones re-broken and set again. At least he would have morphine in a hospital though, he consoled himself.

"You're awake," Nile said, standing behind him. A hand grazed the base of Alex's spine and the teenager jumped forward, ignoring the pain it caused him, needing to be out of Nile's reach. "Now, now," he was chastised, "don't be like that. We had fun last night didn't we?" The hand was on him again, except this time it had drifted lower and the tips of Nile's fingers were dipping between the cheeks of his arse.

Alex kicked backwards, missing Nile completely, but feeling better for having tried to hurt the bastard. His arse didn't feel sore, and his thighs weren't sticky, so he knew he hadn't been raped… yet. The fact that Nile had even thought to taunt him with the idea of having been violated and not being able to remember it made Alex's stomach churn. No one had touched him like that except Yassen, and that was the way he liked it. Nile mentioning it meant he had considered it, and Alex panted in fear, whimpering low in his throat as Nile stepped closer to him, bringing Alex's back flush to the man's bare chest, and Alex could feel something poking at his backside.

God no, he thought. "Oh please no."

"If you touch him, I will kill you," Yassen hissed. Alex's eyes snapped to the other man's, and it was obvious by the bruises on Yassen's face that Nile had beaten him unconscious last night too. He had only woken up, and Nile made sure to grin at Yassen over Alex's shoulder as he pushed two fingers into the boy's entrance.

"Tough words from the guy tied to a chair," Nile taunted. He used his free hand to unzip his trousers, pushing them lower and lower down his hips until his cock sprung free. "Alex wants it, don't you baby? You don't mean ‘no', do you?" He twisted his fingers, dragging them across Alex's prostate and the teenager could help the gasp that left his mouth or the interested twitch his cock gave in response. "What he really means is ‘god yes, but he's not supposed to want this'. Isn't that right, love?"

Alex's whole body froze. Nile had just said the exact same thing Alex had said to Ian. Nile must have been listening, spying on them. God, he must have seen the whole thing: him and Yassen fucking, him kissing Ian and threatening to shoot himself. He had known where they were all along, Alex betted, and had been lulling them into a false sense of security, allowing them to think that they were safe from him. Alex gasped, his chest heaving as he tried desperately not to cry again. All he had been doing for the past two days was crying or screaming and he was getting sick of it. He had never felt more stupid in his life.

"Get your hands off of him!" Yassen snarled, lurching forward in the chair. He breathed heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring in anger, and he swallowed all of the abusive words he wanted to hurl at the man assaulting his lover. His energy would be better spent trying to wriggle free of his restraints. He had almost gotten one arm free, the rope nearly loose enough to slip his hand through, and when that happened it wouldn't be hard for Yassen to untie the rest of the knots without Nile noticing.

The other man was rather occupied.

"You want me, don't you Alex?" Nile's free hand caressed Alex's stomach, sliding lower, picking at the scabbing wound he had left on Alex's lower belly with the scalpel the night before, until his fingers finally closed around Alex's cock. He stroked, with long, harsh tugs, ignoring the way Alex tried to squirm away from his hands. "Just like you wanted your uncle to kiss you back, hmm?" He dropped a wet kiss to Alex's neck, laughing lowly as Alex drew in a sharp breath.

"I don't have an uncle," Alex whispered.

"Are you really so fucking stupid?" Nile shouted. Both hands removed themselves from Alex's body, and Nile grabbed Alex by the shoulders, shaking him.

"Ian Rider is your fucking uncle!" He slapped Alex hard across the face, and the boy's head rocked to one side and back again from the force of the strike. Alex blinked slowly, his eyes tearing up, but he didn't mind. Nile could hit him as much as he wanted, just as long as he wasn't touching Alex there again.

"Ian?" Alex whispered, looking over at Yassen with wide eyes.

Yassen refused to meet his gaze, and Alex lowered his eyes to the floor, feeling stupid and foolish for having been the last to know that his own uncle had murdered his father. Why had no one told him?

"He tried to tell you the truth, didn't he? But you wouldn't listen. Perfect protégé Alex Rider, too stubborn to listen to others. Son of the great John Rider, so of course he must be brilliant. Pig-headed and immature too, but everyone simply overlooked that, didn't they, Alex? And look where it's gotten you!" Both hands closed over the sides of Alex's face. The blood dried on his face flaked off beneath Nile's fingers as the man's fingers dug into the flesh of his cheeks. "You don't know anything, Rider. But look at you, so angry at the world, so vengeful, and so very misguided. Though I can't really blame you for that; all of your misplaced anger is Yassen's fault, isn't it? He was the one who told you bedtime stories about how sweet revenge against Ian would be, how you would one day welcome Tulip Jones' violent death, how brave and loyal your father was. But your father was a traitor, Alex. He was nothing but a traitor."

"LIAR!" Yassen screamed, angrier than Alex could ever remember him being. In Alex's whole life he had never witnessed something as scary as the look on Yassen's face. He looked almost ready to peel the skin off of Nile's face with just his nails, tearing and gouging and hurting, until Nile was dead or mad from the pain.

"I'm not lying, Gregorovich. You should have let your uncle explain, Alex. Your father worked for them. It was a family business, you could say, John and Ian Rider together, and maybe you as well one day? Julia called it deep cover. MI6 ruined John's career, sent him to prison and fucked up his life, and all so that he would be more valuable to Scorpia. None of it was real." He turned and narrowed his eyes at Yassen, "none of it."

"That's not true. He saved Yassen's life. He took care of him. That was real." Alex tried to meet Yassen's eyes, but the Russian kept his face turned away, purposely avoiding looking at Alex. Alex's whole life revolved around John and Yassen's relationship. Without it, John would never have died, and Yassen would never have kidnapped Alex and grown to love him. If none of it had been real… it didn't bear thinking about.

"You foolish, naive little boy," Nile mocked him cruelly. "None of it was real. Not even his death. They faked it all. Albert Bridge and the handover, swapping John for that Government-brat." Yassen's attention was back on Nile as he spoke, eyes fixed firmly on the discoloured face. "All of it was fake."

"Shut up." Alex clenched his fists above his head, willing the chains to disappear so that he could land one right in the centre of Nile's smug face.

"Your father didn't die on Albert Bridge. He and your mother snuck out of the country a year later, and you were left with a nanny because of an ear infection. Ash planted the bomb. Julia detonated it." He grinned widely, the brightness of his smile made Alex wince, and the boy squeezed his eyes closed trying to block out Nile's face. "Scorpia killed your parents. All these years, Alex, and you've been fighting for the wrong side. It's all Yassen's fault, you know. He brought you here. He handed you right over to us, to the people who murdered your father. I wonder if you will ever forgive him?"

Alex finally managed to catch Yassen's gaze. When Alex opened his eyes, those familiar blue orbs were fixed directly on his face. Yassen's mouth was half open, his face slack and pale, and Alex could see him swallowing convulsively, struggling to speak. "Alex…?" he finally muttered, voice breaking. The truth of what Nile had said struck him deeply, like fire running through his veins, it filled him up and hurt him. Heart beating frantically, fingers tingling, and vision swimming slightly, Yassen watched Alex watch him, and had to tear his eyes away. He had caused this. He had done this to Alex.

"It's not his fault!" Alex hissed. "He didn't know. Yassen didn't know, don't you dare blame him for anything!"

"Hmm, you're right, I suppose. He hadn't known so it wouldn't be fair to blame him for bringing you here. But for letting me do this to you? Should he have tried harder to stop me?" Those hands were on him again, and Alex tensed immediately.

He tried to ignore the way his skin crawled as Nile touched him. "He's tied to a fucking chair. What do you want him to do? Magic the ropes away?"

Nile chuckled. "You're chained to the ceiling and you've still managed to get a few good hits in." Nile rubbed his chin, and Alex's eyes narrowed on a faint bruise that he hadn't noticed before. He didn't even remember giving it to the other man. "He should have done more to help you, Alex. I hope he can live with himself."

"Shut u-ah!" Alex broke off into a cry.

Nile's fingers were inside him again, and he jerked forward, swinging from the chains, trying to pull away from the other man. Nile simply moved to stand behind him, forcing Alex to stand on the balls of his feet or to lean backwards, resting his weight on Nile's chest. "Tell me you want this?"

"Get off! Get off of me!"

"Tell me you want this," Nile repeated. He thrust forward, and Alex sobbed lightly as he felt the brush of the other man's cock against his arse. "Tell me, Alex, and I'll make it good for you."

"Go to hell!" he spat, taking deep breaths, gasping softly as Nile pulled his fingers out again. He waited, tense and terrified, for what was coming, trying to brace himself for the pain and the humiliation Nile would no doubt inflict upon him. He squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to look at Yassen as he was being raped, and he waited.

A ‘phut' echoed through the room, the noise familiar and comforting, and still Alex waited, heart pounding through his chest. Nile gave a grunt, loud and shocked, and he pressed forward suddenly, leaning heavily on Alex. The teenager cried out, expecting an intrusion that never came. Instead, Nile slid to his knees, his face pressed to the back of Alex's thighs and the blood from the bullet wound left a streak of vivid red down Alex's back.

"I believe he told you to go to hell," someone said, his tone clipped and furious.

Ian. It was Ian Rider, standing in the doorway, with a gun hanging limply from one hand. "Alex, are you ok?" He ran to the boy, one hand lightly rubbing the dried blood from his face, as the other started tugging at the chains, trying to untangle them from the hooks that kept them attached to the ceiling.

Yassen was trembling in his chair, his eyes unable to stop roaming over Alex's abused body. His face was paler than normal, from blood loss and shock and anger, and Alex honestly felt terrible, but he was willing to do a lot of things to make Yassen happy.

"I've never been better," he lied, and smiled as the corners of Yassen's mouth twitched once in amusement.

"He needs a hospital. As do I," Yassen informed him stiffly, one hand finally free. He began to untie his second hand, watching avidly as Ian lifted Alex out of the chains and slowly rotated the boy's wrists and arms, working the blood back into the stiff joints. "Assuming you aren't just going to have me shot."

"I'll take you to whatever hospital you like, I'll make sure they ask no questions that are irrelevant to treating your injuries, and then you'll both disappear. Deal?" It hurt Ian to offer it, knowing that it was likely Alex would jump at the chance to escape from MI6 and himself, but Alex deserved to be happy. Considering the crap couple of days the boy had lived through, what happened next would be Alex's choice.

Alex was taken by surprise. He hadn't expected Ian to let him go. Ian must have known they were related, but then again, Alex had kissed him, several times, and touched him seriously inappropriately considering that they were blood related. The guy was probably freaking out just being in the same room as a naked Alex right now. The teenager snorted. He wasn't sure to be amused or disappointed, but he decided he'd think on that at a hospital, after he was given some morphine.

"I hurt all over," he whined. Once Yassen was free, the man stripped Nile of his trousers and pulled them on himself. Nile's shirt was on top of one of the crates and Yassen helped Alex into it, pulling it down to cover as much of the boy as possible, before Ian swung him into his arms, carrying him bridal style out of the warehouse.

Once he was seated in the car, leaning against Yassen, comfortable but aching at the same time, Alex zoned out. He might have slept, but he didn't feel refreshed when they arrived at the second hospital Ian had stopped at (Yassen refusing to get out at the first for some reason). He couldn't remember the drive to either hospital.

"I need drugs," Alex mumbled, saying his thoughts out loud. "Sleep isn't enough. I need drugs to get better. And doctors. Lots of doctors. And morphine. Or Pethidine, that's good too."

"Ok, you little druggie," Ian said, chuckling, as he helped lay Alex down on the bed a nurse had wheeled over to him. "The doctor will get you something in a minute. Go to sleep."

Alex felt the prick of a needle on the back of his hand, and he smiled softly as the blackness dragged him away.

XXX

April 12th 2001. Russia.

Alex woke up three days later. He was in Russia, in a house that he had never seen before.

"Do you like it?" Yassen asked softly. He was lying beside Alex, on top of the duvet, with his head propped up on his hand. The other hand moved towards the boy, hesitantly, as if afraid that Alex would reject his touch. When Alex didn't flinch or protest, Yassen cupped his cheek lightly and turned the boy's face towards him. He leant forward to press their lips together briefly. "I thought you might like it. It will give you a chance to improve your Russian."

The television was turn on in the background, mounted on the wall opposite the bed with the volume muted. Alex's eyes lingered on the framed photograph of the late Michael J. Roscoe as the news reporter recounted his death. He drew his eyes away, allowing them to linger instead on Yassen's healthier looking face.

"It has been a while since I've had a chance to practise," Alex agreed lightly.

He leant forward for another kiss. Yassen wasn't Nile. He would never be Nile. Alex loved and trusted the elder assassin, with his heart and his life and his body. He had no reason to be afraid or skittish around Yassen. While Alex knew that what Nile had done to him would affect his life in profound ways later down the line, tomorrow or the day after or maybe in a year's time, it would never change how he felt about his lover. "I love you."

"And I you, Alex. Very much." They kissed lazily, just several brushes of their lips and gentle flicks of their tongues. "Rest more. You have much to heal from."

A needle pricked his arm. Alex tried to glare at Yassen before he lost consciousness, but he didn't think he succeeded very well. The last thing he heard was Yassen amused laughter, like bells, light and free. Then he was sleeping again.

XXX

April 14th 2001.

They had argued about this several times already. Yassen didn't think Alex was ready for it, and Alex had agreed that it was too soon after he had first tried to leave the bed without help. He had been shaky and he had tired easy, and Yassen had needed to carry the child back to bed. But when Alex was well enough to walk unescorted and unaided from the mansion, isolated in a small forest, to the nearest town and back without complications, he had insisted he couldn't wait any longer.

He needed to see Ian Rider.

Alone.

Yassen hadn't been happy of course, but he had allowed it in the end. Like Ian, he believed that it was Alex's choice to make. It was Alex's future that needed to be decided upon. Neither adult could make the selection for him, and one of them knew they were going to lose him. Yassen had let Alex go, and he prayed that Alex would come back home.

Standing outside of Ian's house on Cheyne Walk, Alex couldn't feel any of the determination and desire he had felt when arguing about this with Yassen. There had been a need then to sort through this part of his life, to learn about who he could have been had Ian raised him, about what his life might have been like instead. But now there was only terror. What if Ian didn't want to know him? He had killed the man's housekeeper? Girlfriend? Live-in friend? What if he was making a mistake, and this relationship wasn't what he wanted. If - No, when he returned to Russia, what if Yassen was gone?

He took a deep breath.

"Don't be stupid," Alex told himself. Yassen would wait to hear his decision. He knew that the man wouldn't just up and disappear without telling him. There was no question of being abandoned by the blond assassin; it was just a stupid idea thought up by his panicking mind.

He had wanted to do this. He had claimed he needed to do this. Yassen would never ask, never. But Alex knew the other man wanted to know the detailed truth about John's fake death and real death, just as Alex did. Perhaps it would be easier for the Russian to hear if the truth came from Alex's mouth, rather than from the enemy?

Before he could talk himself out of it again, Alex raised his hand… and knocked.

XXX

April 17th 2001. Russia.

Yassen moved on top of him, thrusting his hips lightly as Alex moaned and arched in desire. They both ignored the phone that lay ringing on the bedside locker. They were too caught up in their physical activity to care about whoever was trying to contact either one of them. Yassen came first, grunting softly before collapsing on top of his lover. With one hand he reached for the phone and pressed the answer button on the mobile. He held it up to Alex's ear, smirking. His other hand fisted Alex's cock faster. Yassen felt rather smug as Alex cried out in orgasm, and the person on the other end of the phone abruptly stopped talking.

"That was very cruel of you, Yassen," Alex teased. He panted lightly and turned to lie on his back as Yassen moved off of him. Alex held his hand out for the phone.

"They should not have interrupted us." He said, handing the phone to his lover. The blond lay back on the bed and tugged Alex against his side.

"Hello?" Alex called down the phone.

Someone on the other end cleared their throat. "Alex Rider, is that you?"

"It is. Who is speaking?" Brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. There were only a handful of people who had this number. Close associates of theirs, people who could be trusted upon to help them out when they desperately needed it and had the money to pay for it. And Ian.

"It's Alan Blunt. Ian gave me your number, though it took quite a bit of persuasion. I do believe he is quite eager to see you again, Alex."

Alex and Yassen traded looks. Neither of them was working for Scorpia anymore. Though, strangely, and rather worryingly now that Alex thought about it because it must have been MI6 (who else could it have been?), someone had contacted Scorpia and made some sort of deal with them. Alex's involvement with the organisation would never be known. Mrs. Rothman would be punished internally for her crazed plan rather than hunted down and brought to stand trial in the United Kingdom like Ian wanted. Nile's body would be sent back to Italy for burial. In return, Scorpia had agreed to forget that Alex Rider and Yassen Gregorovich had ever existed.

Personally, Alex had thought they had gotten the better deal. But now that he had Alan Blunt on the phone, Alex was starting to rethink that. Maybe Scorpia were the lucky ones?

"What do you want?" he asked coolly.

"I suppose you've been watching the news. A man known as The Gentleman murdered Michael J. Roscoe a few days ago. Then he sent the family some roses. Quite a pleasant fellow if you ignore the issue of killing innocent people. However, his son is acting rather suspiciously, and it isn't an isolated incident. Several other young men, all sons of prominent businessmen who have all died suspiciously in the last year or so, have all been behaving quite out of character. We're rather worried, Alex, as I suspect you can imagine."

"What's this got to do with me?" Alex tensed up. Yassen's arms tightened around him, and Alex felt himself relaxing into the elder man's side.

"We have a mission planned, Alex." Mr. Blunt paused, purposely drawing out the silence. It made Alex impatient, and he leant forward hunching over the phone as he waited. Alan spoke again, "And you're the perfect boy for the job. How soon can you get to France?"

Alex flopped back against Yassen. He handed the phone over to the blond, throwing his arm across his face with a desperate moan.

Why him?

When Yassen asked the same question Alex had just thought, Mr. Blunt answered plainly, "Because he's Alex Rider."

The End

6 - Paraphrased from: "They talk of a man betraying his country, his friends, his [sweetheart]. There must be a moral bond first. All a man can betray is his conscience." - Joseph Conrad 1857 - 1924.

7 - Judge Doom, the sadistic judge of Toontown District Superior Court, is from ‘Who Framed Roger Rabit'. He melted to death and it wasn't pretty.