Hi! This is my first AR fanfic. and I just can't wait to post it! I hope you like it and review, because honestly it'll encourage me to write faster and It would tell me how you, the readers, feel about this story. So please review.

Disclaimer: I asked AH for the rights to Alex Rider, but he won't even share. (Huffs and stomps feet)

Oh and just a quick note here, this story is rated M for Non-con, torture and Language.

Now that that is done, Enjoy. (Takes a deep breath and clicks the post button.)

Alex Rider was in pain. Pain so intense that he had to fight, with each step he took, to stop himself from collapsing to the ground and curling into a tight ball. The rain pounded him as he 'ran' across the unfamiliar terrain. All he knew was that he was somewhere in the countryside and that he had to find a place to hide and fast before they found him.

The gravel road seemed to stretch on endlessly and no matter for how long Alex ran, the scenery around him didn't change. Endless grassy planes surrounded him with the occasional tree marking his progress. The only sources of light were the thin beams of moonlight that occasionally penetrated the black rain clouds. By now his clothes were sticking to him like leeches, slowly sucking the warmth out of his body. He shivered violently, pulling his thin jacket closer to his body but it didn't do any good as it was also drenched, not only in water but blood too.

He stopped.

Just for a few seconds he reassured himself as he sat, or rather collapsed, on the ground. Alex pulled up his now stained sleeve and fought not to retch at the sight. He could barely make out the deep gash on his upper left arm in the dim light, but the coppery smell of dried and fresh blood was nearly enough to send him over the edge. Quickly, he ripped a long strip from the fabric of his jacket and held it up in the rain to clean it. It wasn't exactly the sterile bandage that his wound obviously needed but it wasn't like he had any choice. Alex wrapped the makeshift tourniquet around the gash, wincing as the rough fabric touched the sore area. He would just have to hope that the wound would not get infected. Next he checked the bullet wound in his right thigh. Earlier he had tied a piece of fabric, that he had found hanging on a clothesline a few kilometers back, to stop the flow of blood and put pressure on the wound. The only reason why he was able to get this far was the adrenaline and that measly cloth, so he made sure that it had not loosened and tied another knot just to be sure.

Alex continued his checkup noting the multitude of cuts and bruises that littered his body. Most of the cuts have scabbed over and the bruises have fainted slightly turning from dark purple to a sickly shade of blue. He really was, literally, a bloody mess.

After he was satisfied that nothing was infected, yet, Alex stood up unsteadily. He swayed slightly as a strong gust of wind and rain rammed into him and he barely managed to stay upright. When he stopped swaying, Alex continued stumbling forward, determined to find any means of communication so that he could call for help. My best bet would be MI6, but I swore to leave my past, and anything related to it, behind me. I wanted to be normal again. To forget and where did that get me?! Stuck in cell for a whole month as Zeljan Kurst's prisoner that's where. Alex thought sardonically, shuddering not just from the cold but from the horrid memories that suddenly bombarded his mind. With a lot of effort he managed to push back the memories, he could deal with them later when he was safe.

At that exact moment, Alex heard the unmistakable roar of an approaching vehicle above the monotonous spatter of raindrops against the rough ground. Panic gripped his heart and blood froze in his veins as he thought furiously about what to do next. There were no rocks or trees to hide behind and no shelter of any kind for as long as his eyes could make out in the murky darkness of the storm.

Purely out of desperation, Alex left the gravel road and turned left venturing deeper into the plane. He figured that the rain and the semi-darkness would shield him from whoever was in that car. He ran harder and faster, ignoring the constant throbbing in his thigh, and tried to put as much distance between himself and the road. The sound of the car was getting louder and louder as the car came closer and closer. It was then that he spotted it. A small oak tree about ten meters away and made for it, seeing as it was the only shelter he had for miles.

He never made it.

Just as the safety of the tree was only five meters away, Alex felt his left foot sinking into the ground. He stumbled and fell face first into the dirt, cutting the side of his neck on a sharp rock. The pain was unbearable to begin with but then cool adrenaline rushed through his body masking the agony. He had fallen into a muddy ditch. It wasn't very deep just about a meter high and two meters wide. The thick grass along with the near pitch black darkness and relentless rain, prevented Alex from seeing the ditch and therefore he fell into it.

Alex got to his knees just as the vehicle, a black Range Rover, sped past. He caught a glimpse of the driver and recognized it as one of the men charged with guarding his cell when he was a prisoner and he wasn't alone. The back seat window was open, through it he saw another man holding a machine gun and aiming it at the landscape in front of him. It was clear to Alex that they were looking for him and had he not been lucky enough to fall into this trough, he would've been dead by now or worse, recaptured.

Alex sighed in relief when the Range Rover was finally out of earshot. He stood up, carefully examining his surroundings and listening for any other enemy vehicles. When he sensed none, he began to walk. This time, in the opposite direction to the gravel road and deeper into the wilderness.

He walked for hours. The never-ending throbbing of his body becoming even more intense with each passing second. He had lost his sense of direction and was worried that he was walking in circles, but there was no way of telling if that's true because the landscape didn't change and the rain was making it even harder to navigate. In addition he was freezing, the cold rainwater that soaked his blonde hair and muddy clothes, combined with the icy wind, seemed to push him to the verge of hypothermia.

Alex's foot landed on concrete.

It was so strange, so different to the mud he had been walking on, that he thought he was hallucinating. It wouldn't have surprised him, his sleep deprived brain and drained body, were very capable of doing just that. He strode further looking for any sign indicating that this was just a figment of his imagination. But it wasn't and he was walking up a pathway leading to a house.

Now I'm definitely dreaming. Alex thought in disbelief as he examined the two story building in front of him. The house was painted white and had a tiled roof. Ivy grew along the wall facing Alex, all the way to the second floor window. A stone chimney was barely visible on the roof along with a small satellite dish. It certainly looked very homey and Alex felt a pang in his chest as he remembered the last place he had called home, his Uncle Ian's Chelsea house where he had lived with his housekeeper Jack Starbright. Another pang hit him as he remembered that she was dead, blown to pieces because of him. Tears flooded out of the teen's eyes, he had loved the American like an older sister. She was the only person who had cared for him before and after Ian's death. She had wanted him to stop the spying and had practically begged Alan Blunt and Tulip Jones to leave him alone. However, no matter how hard she tried he was always blackmailed into staying.

Now he had no one to care for him. The Pleasures had volunteered to take him in and adopt him, but they were also dead. Just like everyone whom he had loved and cared about. He was fifteen now yet he had witnessed more death and misery than any normal person did in a lifetime. He was no longer innocent and naïve. He desperately wished he was, but he wasn't and nothing could ever change that. Alex wiped the tears away angrily, he couldn't just stand around and cry like a pathetic kid when he was still in danger.

Now that he was in front of the house, he had a hard choice to make either keep on walking and hope he stumbles on a phone booth or whatever, or he knocks on the door and asks the residents if he could use the phone. It would seem the easier choice was the latter but with his bloody jacket, neck and trousers. The people inside would probably call the police first and listen later. Wait, but isn't that what I want. The police would protect me from Scorpia right? And they might even contact MI6, just like what happened when I hijacked the crane. Alex pondered.

Having finally decided, Alex hobbled to the wooden door. As he walked he felt the adrenaline rush deserting him, leaving him dizzy and on the verge of unconsciousness. With a huge effort he made it to the door and ringed the doorbell three consecutive times. The occupants were asleep judging by the lack of light and noise coming from within the house and he hoped that they were light sleepers...

So what do you think? Review and tell me, I'm open to all kinds of comments regarding this story =)

RBR