Disclaimer: Alex Rider and his world belong to Anthony Horowitz. Quotes from Peter Pan. Any mentions of recognizable works do not belong to me. Any quotes or uses from other published authors or fan fiction writers belong to their original owners. I take no credit.

Warnings: torture, strangulation, no slash (but slash-like themes), mentions of kinks, mentions of underage sex, mentions of rape, mentions of age-gap relationship.

This was my attempt at writing slash, but I chickened out and changed the story line. Might try writing slash in the future, but not this story.

Yassen Gregorovich sat calmly at the bar. He perched at the edge of his stool, in the darkened far corner of the hotel restaurant.

His eyes flickered over the rim of the vodka that he hadn't taken a sip from (nothing ever could compare with the original Russian beverage, though he may be biased).

He knew MI6 were catching up, they were already in Ipswich, it was only a matter of time before they figured out his exact location. But he'd managed to stay a step ahead of them for nearly a year, in there own backyard might he add, and that wasn't about to change.

Yassen knew how '6 worked. While they might seem prepared and constantly vigilant, he knew that an operation took time and set up. Especially if they wanted to capture him alive.

Once they figured out the exact hotel Yassen was in, they needed time to prepare a frontal assault. They needed to have numbers on their side, because up against an assassin of his calibre, they wouldn't have the upper hand on skill.

They would need to scout the exits and possible escape routes, as well as figure out how to remove as many civilians as possible from harm. Despite MI6's brutal reputation, Yassen knew that civilian lives would be one of the top priorities. Maybe not the number one priority, but up there.

By the time they could send in any units to get him, he would be gone.

All that was in the future, however. Yassen estimated that he had at least another ten minutes until any of the ground agents found him and reported his location.

That in mind, he took another pretend sip from his glass and shifted for a better view of the restaurant entrance. His eyes discreetly scanned for anything out of formation.

A height discrepancy is what caught Yassen's eye. In a restaurant with an open bar, kids would be strictly forbidden. And in a hotel as shady as this one, kids were already a rare sight.

No one in their right mind would send their kids to this side of town.

It was one of the reasons Yassen had chosen the place. Having children in the area would have been a distraction and a nuisance. Yassen let his eyes fleet over the crowd by the door, searching for the person that had caught his attention.

He let his eyes wander, taking in the crowd as a whole, never focusing on one spot for too long. He found who he was looking for in seconds.

Alex Rider leaned against the doorframe of the restaurant, eyes fixed on Yassen. Alex stood tall and confident, tilting his head at him like a beckoning.

He knew it was no mistake that Alex was here, the boy was one of MI6's ground agents. Yassen felt a piece of anger rise up as he watched Alex turn and walk confidently towards the hotel lobby.

As unintimidated and self assured as Alex had appeared, he had seen the nerves that Alex had become so adept at hiding.

Yassen tossed a bill down to pay for his still full drink, and quickly exited the restaurant. He followed Alex's path through the lobby and into a hallway.

He saw the flicker of a door closing ahead of him, and sped towards it. It was the first floor entry to the staircase, Yassen went through the door and closed it behind him silently.

He could hear the gentle and measured thuds of Alex's foot steps. Too light and quiet to be a full grown man.

He noiselessly climbed the concrete stairs, listening to Alex climb above him. Yassen was just going up to the second landing when he heard a door swing open and shut above him. He paused for a moment, but Alex's footsteps had disappeared.

He hastened his pace, stopping at the third floor door where he knew Alex to be. There was no window to see into the floor. Alex could be waiting with a dozen soldiers ready for Yassen's arrest.

He thought through the probabilities and possibilities, assessed the risks and rewards, then turned and retreated back down the stairs.

He reached the first floor again, and turned down the hallway towards the lobby. Crossing to the other side, he stopped by a pair of sliding doors. He pressed his thumb to the call button, and moments later the elevator doors opened.

Yassen stepped in, hitting the door close button much to the dismay of the suited man that had called for him to hold the door. He then hit the button marked with a bold three.

A short ride and a moment of cheery elevator music later, the doors opened silently to the third floor. Yassen instantly spotted Alex, standing in the middle of the hallway, leaning against the wall, facing the staircase door. He was alone, just as Yassen had predicted. Furthermore, he appeared weaponless. That didn't surprise Yassen, as MI6 had never been in the habit of giving their favourite teen spy a way to defend himself.

Yassen stalked out of the elevator, his footfalls silent on the hallways plush carpet floor. He was a few feet away from Alex now, and examined the tensed muscles in the teens shoulders.

He quickly lashed out, grabbing Alex's left wrist in his right hand and spinning them face to face. He snatched up Alex's other wrist in a strong hold and slammed the boy bodily into the nearest wall.

A small puff of air escaped Alex's lips as he was unceremoniously chucked against the flat surface.

Yassen stood more than a head taller than Alex, forcing the boy to tilt his head up. Alex faced him with a look of disinterest and a total lack of surprise. Yassen felt a small surge of pride, knowing that Alex had been completely aware of Yassen's approach, and had probably even expected Yassen to come from the elevator instead of the stairs.

His feeling of pride was quickly shadowed with a creeping anger.

"What are you doing here, Alex?"

A smirk flitted across the boy's face, a mask of full bravado. "Would you believe me if I said I was on holiday?" Alex's British accent was as thick and posh as ever, despite Yassen knowing he had been in America for months.

He gave Alex a withering look in response to the question. The teen responded with a look of utter unrepentance.

Yassen rolled his eyes at the child-like antics. He shifted his left hand from Alex's wrist, letting it drift down his arm. Alex kept the freed arm in the same position against the wall, not attempting to get free. He watched Alex's reactions carefully as he ran his hand down the boys back. Yassen observed the slight bob of Alex's Adam's apple as his fingers reached the waistband of Alex's jeans.

His fingers slipped farther, dipping into Alex's back pocket and emerging with a keycard in his grasp. It was plain white with a logo of a lighting bolt etched in black; the symbol for the Stormside hotel.

He watched the nervous energy in Alex's eyes increase.

Yassen slipped the keycard into his own back pocket, before returning his attention to Alex. He shifted, pushing both of Alex's hands above his head and holding them in place with his left hand.

With his right hand, Yassen carefully searched Alex's other pockets. He came up with no weapons, as he'd expected. The only gadget on Alex's person was a steel ring on his right hand ring finger.

It was about half a size too big for Alex's hand and had a simple circular design on it. Yassen removed it from Alex's small and calloused finger and rolled it around in his equally calloused hand. The design could be pressed, he realized. Probably a distress signal.

"I assume you've used this?" Yassen asked, though it was more of a statement.

"The second I saw you." Alex answered truthfully. Yassen dropped the ring at their feet, crushing it with a booted heel. He didn't think that it would stop MI6 from finding them, the signal had been going for a few minutes already, but it might slow them down.

"It'll have taken perhaps five minutes for MI6 to find your exact location. By now, they'll be moving their units from around the city to surround the hotel? SAS I presume?"

Alex nodded, still straining to look up at Yassen, "Of course."

"The city is small, but a tourist spot. The units would have been spread out to accommodate the hotels, motels and other places where I might have been in accommodation?"

"Yes. We knew you were by the water, though. I saw the Fer de Lance in the shipyard."

Yassen nodded approvingly, "It'll take approximately thirty minutes for all the necessary units to get within striking distance. They'll already be suited up, but they'll have to do a customary comm's check, so there's another five minutes," Yassen continued thinking out loud, "it'll take at least fifteen minutes to scout the area for escape routes and cover them, but I'll round that up to twenty because they'll want to try to be stealthy. There was a few dozen people in the restaurant downstairs, it is..." Yassen checked his watch, "5:57 now, so the dinner rush should have started. There will also be people in the rooms, so I estimate it'll take them a further half hour to evacuate the building of civilians." Yassen smiled at Alex darkly, "that means they've left you alone with me for an hour and twenty-five minutes. What on earth were you meant to do to keep me here?" Yassen already had a good idea of what they had expected of Alex.

Alex looked Yassen in the eye, tilting his neck to relieve some of the pressure of keeping his head back. "Well, they told me this was to be a honey trap." Alex smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "I told them it was stupid."

A honey trap. That's what he'd assumed, but it didn't give him any satisfaction to get it confirmed. It also didn't make him any less pissed knowing that MI6 would send an underaged kid as a Raven; or that Alex was oh-so willing to whore himself out for Queen and Country.

"Why would they send you?" Yassen asked - again, he already knew the answer.

"They were trying to figure out what your weakness is, they decided that it would be me."

The fact that MI6 thought for a second that he was attracted to Alex in that way just fuelled his anger. Alex was a child. "You don't agree?"

Alex scoffed, "Being an assassin as long as you have? If you had a weakness, you'd have been killed by now."

"I almost was," Yassen retorted. Alex nodded, ceding the point.

"But you weren't killed," Alex stated, "and as much as I think you don't want to kill me, I don't think you would die for me. Again. Nor would you let '6 snatch you up. Again. Anyway," Alex continued with a shrug, "your debt to my dad is long fulfilled. You saved my life a dozen times, so there's not much stopping you from killing me."

"Then why come? If you think it so likely that I'll kill you?" As if that was even a possibility; after everything he'd done to help Alex along.

"Because I was told to," Alex replied simply. "Doesn't matter if I thought it was stupid."

"You're right, it was stupid." Yassen said calmly, almost pleasantly. He noted the brief relief that crosses Alex's expression. Just as Alex's muscles relaxed, Yassen yanked Alex from the wall and propelled him face first at the door to their immediate right.

Alex threw out his hands to stop himself, hitting the wooden door with a hollow thud. Alex went to turn around, slight shock radiating from him. Yassen stopped him, pressing his forearm to Alex's back and pushing him against the wooden panelling.

With the other hand, Yassen once again retrieved Alex's key card and swiped it in the doors scanner. Yassen had deduced the door correctly, and a green light flashed as the door unlocked. Yassen opened the door and propelled Alex into the room ahead of him.

Alex stumbled before regaining his footing. He stopped in the middle of the suite and spun around to face Yassen, guard up and hackles raised.

Yassen crossed over to him in two strides, wrapping a hand around Alex's throat before the boy could react. A small, stifled breath escaped Alex's esophagus.

Alex instinctively stepped back, but he kept a firm hold on Alex's neck, stepping with him.

"What-" Alex's question was cut off abruptly as Yassen raised his hand, forcing Alex onto his tiptoes. Alex's hands had risen up, one wrapping around Yassen's wrist, the other tangling with the fingers around his throat.

"Well," Yassen spoke, going to answering er Alex's cut off question, "if MI6 expect me to wait for them, they had better make it worth my while, don't you think?"

He watched the controlled panic appear in Alex's eyes. Maybe it wasn't fair, taking his anger out on Alex, but it wasn't like teen hadn't brought it on himself. Alex stumbled as he moved them back, pressing the teen against the far wall.

He kept an even pressure on Alex's windpipe until the brown eyes began to glaze over. He released his hold, letting Alex double over for a second, gasping and coughing.

A moment later, Yassen pushed Alex back against the wall. They mimicked their position from the hallway, Yassen pinning Alex's wrists with one hand, the other hand gripping the boy's fair hair.

This time a bit of fear was apparent on Alex.

"You're not-" Alex broke off with a cough, "you're not really going to-"

"Rape you?" Yassen finished. Of course not. "Haven't decided yet."

He watched Alex clench his teeth, possibly the teen was nervous. More likely he was biting back a scathing reply.

"If I did decide to," Yassen continued, "well, you are a Raven aren't you? You came here knowing full and well what could happen."

The scared glint in Alex's eyes was proof enough that the teen hadn't really expected Yassen to try anything. Arrogance and foolishness. Alex didn't know him - couldn't possibly have any idea what he was willing to do.

Yassen tilted his head contemplatively. "You are pretty enough for a boy," and maybe it sounded like a compliment, but it made Alex shiver down to the bones with terror. "It would be ridiculously easy to find some people over in the East, maybe in South America, to sell you to. It would be just as easy for me to break your neck right this second." Yassen gripped Alex's hair even tighter, forcing him to bare his throat. "You're correct in saying that there isn't much stopping me from killing you, it would be pitifully easy. Care to see?"

Yes. No. Maybe. Yassen watched the conflicting thoughts pass through Alex's eyes. Alex didn't even know what he wanted, what he expected, what had made him come after Yassen and push him. And it didn't matter anymore either, Yassen saw the thought cross Alex's mind. The teen thought Yassen was going to kill him.

A logical assumption, as he was pulling the teen's head just that little bit farther back in preparation. He watched Alex regulate his breathing, making it low and controlled. With the Russian's strength a sharp yank and twist would be enough. One clean snap and that was it. Quick, easy. Alex would be dead before he hit the ground. No more fighting. No more pain. Exhaling a shuddering breath, Alex relaxed into the assassin's grip.

Several seconds passed in tense silence before slowly, carefully, Yassen eased the tight hold on the boys hair. Then the hand fell away completely.

"You never react the way I expect you to."

Alex's eyes snapped open to find Yassen looking at him with an odd expression on his face, still very close.

Alex blinked slowly, maybe trying to come up with a suitable reaction, but it was like a heavy blanket had settled over all his senses. Yassen watched Alex gingerly touch the side of his head, like he couldn't feel anything but the phantom sensation of the hand gripping his hair, about to break his neck.

"Sorry."

Alex straightened up, changing his vulnerable expression to a glare. Yassen smiled then relaxed. Releasing Alex and stepping back, he examined the room. It was small, a decent size for the little hotel they were in.

There was a queen sized bed to his right, with a dark green duvet and more pillows than strictly necessary. There was a small bedside table with a lamp, a notepad, pen and alarm clock on top. Yassen guessed there was probably a N.I.V. Bible in the drawer. To Yassen's left was a small wooden desk and an office chair. A telephone rested on top and there was a lamp on a tall stand next to it.

Near the desk was a door, Yassen guessed it led to an en-suit bathroom. Behind him was the only exit, the same way they had come in. Unless, Yassen amended, Alex wanted to climb out the window, which was to Alex's direct right.

They were three floors up, and the outside wall would be slick with sea spray, but Yassen didn't doubt Alex could scale the building without hinder if he got the chance to try. He returned his gaze to the spy in question, who was still leaning against the wall, rubbing his throat and glaring at Yassen.

For a moment, Yassen considered leaving. He still had well over an hour to get away from the manhunt. But, he realized, MI6 wouldn't stop. They would continue to follow him, and while Yassen was confident he could evade '6 as long as necessary, they had Alex again.

He didn't doubt that they wouldn't hesitate to send Alex after him time and again. So he needed to send MI6 a message. He needed to send Alex a message, too. This wasn't a world for children, and if Alex insisted on playing with fire, he would have to learn what it's like to get burned.

Yassen dropped his hands to his belt, slim fingers working the leather from the dull metal buckle. He kept his eyes on Alex, who was watching his movements with apprehension.

Buckle undone, he slid the leather from his belt loops and twisted the makeshift strap in his hand. He advanced on Alex, who to his credit, didn't so much as flinch.

Standing less than a foot from Alex, he reached out, tilting the boy's face to the side. Then, without warning, he drew back the belt and wiped it across Alex's cheek. Alex cried out, more in surprise than pain, and reached up to touch the stinging red mark left by Yassen.

Quickly, Yassen followed up, slamming the belt to either side of Alex's neck. Once again effectively cutting off Alex's breath. Alex looked up at Yassen, with apprehension and confusion. He didn't seem too worried about the belt at his throat.

Alex was strong headed, and Yassen knew he would have to go farther to get any sort of message into the young spy's thick skull. How far, exactly, would remain to be seen.

Yassen reached up, tangling his fingers into Alex's soft, fair hair. He slammed Alex's head back against the wall, dazing him, then pulled him away and launched him towards the bed.

Alex sprawled across the mattress, quickly recovering his senses and spinning around to face Yassen. Yassen shoved Alex onto his back, pinning the smaller body beneath his. Alex struggled, but Yassen was both bigger and more experienced.

He grabbed both of Alex's wrists, and dug his thumb into the shuko pressure points. Alex tipped his head back and howled in pain.

For a moment, Yassen stopped to contemplate the neighbours. But he guessed that a small, backwater hotel like this was more than used to a few loud noises that kept people up at night.

He released his hold on the pressure points, and Alex yanked his wrists away, scrambling back from Yassen, gasping. Yassen gave Alex a moment of reprieve before grabbing his ankle and pulling Alex towards him.

Alex, ever the fighter, lashed out at Yassen with his free foot. He grabbed Alex's leg before it could connect and slammed his thumb into the hai-kwa pressure point on Alex's Achilles' tendon. Alex shouted, twisting in Yassen's grasp.

The boy scrambled, turning away from Yassen, and tried to pull away from him. Yassen simply reached up and yanked Alex by the hip bone, shoving and sending Alex tumbling face first into the centre of the bed.

He pushed Alex into the mattress, hitting three bundles of nerves on his back in quick succession; first over one of Alex's kidneys, then moving to the small of his back, and finally between his shoulder blades.

Yassen heard Alex let out a sharp sob, watching as Alex brought up one hand to his face. Stifling his cries or wiping away tears.

A wave of guilt hit him, almost enough to stop the punishment there. But, while Alex was hurt, he wasn't so bad off to stop him from continuing with MI6. Or from coming after him again.

Yassen had studied extensively with Dr. Three and knew he could quickly bring grown men to their knees. Alex, on the other hand, would be more of a challenge.

Yassen crawled up, putting his knees on either side of Alex's hips. He reached up, pressing two fingers to the side of Alex's neck on the matsukazé and tsien-tsing respectively. He held there until Alex was a squirming mess, writhing underneath him, nonsensical words tumbling from his mouth.

He let go, giving Alex one second to get his bearings before he flipped him over, grabbing both of Alex's hands. Using the belt that was still in his hand, Yassen threaded the end of the leather strap through the metal buckle, making a loop. He put the loop around Alex's wrist, binding them together. Then, using the tail end of the belt, he jerked Alex's arms up and secured them to the headboard.

Alex's eyes were glazed with pain, but he was still with it enough to struggle. Yassen placed the palm of his hand over Alex's solar plexus, simultaneously pushing down on the kyosen and tsiou-oé pressure points.

Every muscle in Alex's body tensed as the bundle of nerves fired off signals of pain and ouch and hurts.

Alex wrenched his hands down, the belt cutting into the fragile skin around his wrists. Blood ran down Alex's forearms from under the leather strap.

As Alex recovered, gasping in agony, Yassen grabbed onto the collar of Alex's shirt. In one swift motion, Yassen tore the material from Alex's body, discarding it behind him. He immediately took advantage of the better view of Alex's body, placing two knuckles below Alex's belly button and right above his waistband.

He pushed his knuckles into the myojo on Alex's abdomen, feeling his stomach muscles tense and spasm.

He then immediately moved to press above Alex's heart, just below a star shaped scar. He pushed his strong fingers against the tran-tchong until Alex was screaming without pause.

Yassen continued calmly, firing up pressure point after pressure point. Alex was jerking and squirming beneath him. He was mumbling and crying out, yelling in several languages; though Yassen noted that Alex never begged. He didn't hear the words please or stop pass through Alex's lips once.

Blood kept dropping from the cuts on Alex's wrist, pooling on the pillow above Alex. Some of the thick red fluid ran down the pillow, staining Alex's light blond hair.

Tears were falling from Alex's tightly shut eyes. Yassen reached up with both hands, touching Alex's cheeks. He softly brushed away the tears, before arranging his fingers across Alex's face.

He put his thumbs on the centre of his forehead, his pointer fingers on each of his temples, and his middle, ring and pinky fingers below Alex's cheekbones.

Yassen took a deep breath, allowing Alex the same luxury, then pressed upon the uto, kasumi and el-menn nerve points simultaneously.

Alex stopped breathing, his whole body arched up from the mattress; his mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. Yassen held it until Alex started turning blue from lack of oxygen.

When he let go, Alex physically collapsed. Yassen moved off of the boy. He pushed himself off the bed, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. He glanced back at Alex, who was shuddering and sharply sucking in breath after breath, then made his way slowly to the door.

He put his hand on the door knob, and checked his watch. It had been near six when Yassen had first shoved Alex against the wall in the corridor. At that time, he had estimated an hour and twenty five minutes before MI6's imminent arrival. Over an hour of that allotted time had been used.

Yassen sighed, it felt as though it hadn't been nearly that long, yet also that it had been far longer.

Yassen paused for another moment or so before turning the doorknob to exit. He stopped halfway through the motion as he heard the creak of bedsprings beside him.

Glancing over his shoulder, Yassen was surprised to see Alex sitting up. Hands free and belt discarded to the foot of the bed. He was shivering, though he had pulled the duvet up around him.

He cradled his bloody wrists to his bare chest, staring down at his lap and refusing to look at Yassen. Blood stains surrounded Alex, on the bed and on his skin.

Some had dried into patches of black crust in his hair.

There were tear tracks running down his cheeks, and as Yassen watched, Alex quickly wiped them away, leaving watery stripes of red under his eyes. It looked a lot like war paint.

Alex took a few deep breaths, calming himself. Yassen watched as Alex mentally pushed the last hour behind a wall, hiding it and ignoring it. Clearly, Alex was more than used to compartmentalizing. He hadn't thought that Alex could pull up a mask quite so quickly, MI6 must have really taken a toll.

Yassen sighed inaudibly. So much for teaching the boy a lesson. How thick headed could one get? He removed his hand from the door knob, re-locking it, and walked back over to where Alex was curled in on himself.

He reached out, placing his clean hands over Alex's red ones. Alex flinched back slightly, still avoiding Yassens gaze.

"Don't do that," Yassen whispered softly, though it sounded loud and screeching in the now silent room. The first voiced noise after Alex's screams.

Alex's watery brown eyes flickered up slightly, and he spoke in a cracked voice, "Don't do what?"

Yassen gently ran his fingers along the pulse point of Alex's wrist, he felt Alex's heart jump slightly, and let the bloody hand fall to the bed. Yassen's own fingers were now slick with the red liquid.

"Don't put on a mask," he said, as gently as he could. "Don't put up barriers, don't forget."

A flash of defiance appeared in Alex's down turned eyes. Really, Alex seemed to be more angry and annoyed than hurt or scared. "What else am I meant to do?" His voice had a bit of its old fire back, but it was still rough and scratchy. Kid's really could bounce back quickly, which did kind of ruin Yassen's attempt at teaching.

"Learn from it. Remember how you feel right now, and figure out how to never feel this way again. Go home. And next time MI6 come to you, say no. I'm the one who did this to you, but MI6 put you here. Never let them do it again." Yassen placed two fingers on Alex's chin, tilting his head up and leaving a streak of bright red behind. "As awful as this has been, it could have been worse. If you continue, next time, it will be."

Alex looked Yassen in the eye, he could see the gears turning. Alex was trying to work out whether that was a threat, or warning. A mixed look entered Alex's eyes as he landed on the correct conclusion. It was both.

"As if it's that easy." Tears of frustration welled in Alex's eyes, and he angrily dashed them away.

"Just say no, Alex."

Alex let out a humourless laugh, breaking into a small coughing fit. "This isn't a safe sex lecture, Yassen. You're probably one of the smartest people I know, and you're still an idiot."

He raised an eyebrow, but Alex was not deterred.

"Don't you think I've tried? They own me."

Yassen nodded. "They have your assets. Your money, your house, your guardianship. But you're smart, I think you can get around those things."
Alex had gotten away once - all the way to America - he could certainly do it again. MI6 were clever, but he'd be willing to bet that Alex was more so.

"That's not what I meant." Alex had slipped past frustrated and into icy anger. "They own me. My whole life. And not just mine, either." Alex met Yassen's eyes with a steely look. The boy seemed a little confused at why he was telling all this to a man that just tortured him, but maybe Alex was simply out of people to ask for help. "I've already lost Jack, and Ian and my parents and so many others. I don't have a lot of people left, but I intend to keep them safe. If I say no, they're the ones that suffer." Alex put a hand to his chest, breathing hard at the strain of talking.

"If you're gone, MI6 have no reason to hurt them." He assumed Alex was talking about the Pleasures, maybe even that Harris kid.

"They'll catch me in seconds. I haven't got a chance." Alex really sounded like he believed that. But disappearing is easier than one might think.

"They aren't all knowing, Alex. They aren't God." If Alex tried hard enough, there was nothing '6 would be able to do.

Alex snorted, "They might as well be." He brought up a hand to rub at his slowly bruising neck.

Yassen's eyes focused on a small prick on the side of Alex's neck. He had previously discarded it as a simple skin blemish, a freckle. Upon closer inspection, Yassen realized it was the entry point of a syringe.

Yassen frowned, raising his hand to the spot. He rested his wrist on Alex's shoulder and let his thumb run over small wound. Alex cringed slightly, but didn't move from Yassen's touch.

"What is it?" Yassen asked, letting his fingers rest on the shadows of the bruises he had made.

"Nanoparticles, or something along those lines," Alex answered. He didn't seem to trust Yassen, looking like he was trying to figure out his angle, but it didn't stop him from answering truthfully. "They got the idea from Invisible Sword. It doesn't make me do anything, but if I run, it'll kill or incapacitate me. They injected Tom and the Pleasures too. I can't risk them getting hurt if I run."

Yassen nodded in understanding. He realized he had been stupid and naive to think that all they had over Alex was money and a home.
Alex was far too selfless, and thought himself far too invincible, for the threat to be to him alone.

He sighed internally; he probably could have saved Alex a lot of pain if he'd figured that out sooner, or if he'd asked. But Yassen was always of the mentality to act first, ask questions later. Oh well, live and learn.

Yassen reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a small notebook and pen. He scribbled a simple message, and tore off the page.

"Whatever they injected you with will be letting off signals. MI6 will be tracking you. They'll know we're here by now. I estimate it'll be fifteen minutes before they're able to storm the place. I need to be gone by then." Alex nodded, but Yassen wasn't done yet. "Tell them what happened, maybe embellish it a bit?" Yassen watched for Alex to understand, then continued, "then say that I knocked you out and ran. Give them this." He handed Alex the note and watched the serious brown eyes skim over the neat cursive. It simply had a date, time and location, signed off with a -Y.

"Embellish? What, you expect them to believe that you're this kinky?" Alex gestured to the bruises and distinct marks of being tied up. The young spy seemed to have bounced back to his usual fiery sarcasm remarkably quickly - and also seemed to have chosen to trust Yassen, despite what had happened. Alex would never cease to surprise him.

Yassen laughed, "They'll believe whatever you lead them to." Yassen tilted his head, really taking in the extensiveness of the injuries. "At least I'm not a furry."

It was Alex's turn to laugh, though it was more a croak of humour, "Hey now, don't kink shame."

Alex looked over the note again. "So I give them this note, and then what?"

"Then, they'll send you after me again."

"Why?" Why was Yassen helping him?

"Because, Alex," Yassen answered, "despite how good you are in this life, I don't believe you belong."

"So what? All this," Alex gestured at his bruising face, "was what? You attacked me, now you want to help me?"

"I'm always trying to help you, Alex. But now I know how."

Alex snorted, "You could have just asked. You know, instead of all this." Again, he waved his bloody fingers in the general direction of his bruises.

"Point taken. I'll remember to use my words next time."

AN:

Yassen is such an interesting character, but so hard to write!

Please review and tell me what you think!

I'm currently writing a longer story with Alex and Yassen, so if you have any tips on how to write their relationship I'd really welcome it!

Constructive criticism is always welcome, but being rude is not. Please be polite!