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Thlipsis	By : AislingSiobhan Category: A through F > Alex Rider Series Views: 3073 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Alex, or any of the affiliated characters, events, etc. I make no money from this so please dont sue. And credit to where credit is due: Mr A Horz!

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
And here is the very last piece! I look forward to next year's
spyfest! Grin! Sorry it took so long to post it, but apparently I
have a social life this week? Wow, who would have thought!

* * *

Words: 5,725

Chapter 4/4

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”

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 <I>was</I>
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 ¨C the horrid
stinging and burning that followed ¨C 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. 9

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 <I>his</I> 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 prot¨¦g¨¦ 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,10 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. 11

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's 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
¨C 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

9 - The area between the thumb and index finger (digitus secundus
manus, pointer finger, or forefinger) is called the thenar space. The
skin is called webbing.

10 ¨C Pethidine: very strong pain reliever, using during
labour (without an epidural).

11 ¨C This is where "Point Blanc" should have
started.

* * *

Well that was fun! Enjoy

COMPLETE! :)
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