I know, like I need more ideas. This is actually something I had written a year or two ago and just recently found after having completely forgotten about it. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider, MI6, or just about anything you might recognize. I do own the plot, and probably a couple of other things that I can't remember at the moment. And as usual, I'm using amitai's names for any non-officially named K-unit member.

01

"Alex!"

"What?" a blond fifteen-year-old asked from behind the redhead, causing her to jump with a shriek.

Alex pressed his lips together to hide a smile, brown eyes more than expressing his mirth.

"Don't do that!" she scolded as she turned, her own lips twitching.

"I didn't do anything," he defended, all innocent wide eyes and mock-offended manner. "You're the one who didn't look around before yelling." He smiled as she rolled her eyes. "What'd you want?"

"Oh!" She turned and grabbed a paper. "I need you to run to the store and pick up some stuff. I'd go but I'm actually cooking." She rolled her eyes again, this time in exasperation rather than amusement. "And I'm expecting a call."

"Alright," he shrugged, taking the offered list and money. "Be back soon."

With that, the teen stepped out the door, content with the warm weather and looking forward to the summer break that had just started. The last four months had been great - he had caught up with his school work, brought up his grades, and managed to gain a small bit of acceptance from his classmates, or more indifference at any rate. There had been no word from Blunt either, or Jones, or anyone else from that portion of his life - a portion that was hopefully closed. In all, things were looking up.

He should have known it was too good to last.

Actually, that thought occurred to him ten minutes later, as he was blacking out from a blow to the head.

Drab gray walls.

Rough hands on his arms.

Bright light.

Tinny voices.

Someone in scrubs and a face mask leaning over him.

Harsh throbbing, pounding, through his head.

Something was beating rapidly.

Cold metal under his bare skin.

More voices: angry, demanding.

A loud crack.

Fire licking at his nerves.

A scream, torn from an unwilling throat.

Darkness.

When Alex woke, it was to the mother of all migraines, flashing red lights that didn't help his head much, and disorientation so bad that he couldn't get to his feet.

Rather than waste time trying a fifth attempt to gain his feet, he started crawling, easing through the open door and into the hall. He had the vague idea of how he wouldn't be particularly intimidating, naked and crawling like this, as he moved.

Luck was with him now and he found his way into a room with a window open just enough for him to squeeze out.

Alex staggered his way through several alleys, the half-coherent thought to get away at the forefront of his mind.

He began to calm and think rationally nearly an hour later, finally slowing as his body made its aches known.

He assumed the people who took him were a little preoccupied with whatever had been going on inside and that was why he didn't see anyone, not that he really looked up from the floor, concentrating on moving and not throwing up as he had been, and why no one had followed him. He could just imagine Jack panicking though. Who knew how long he had been missing already? Hours? Days?

Though his mind was clearing enough for him to think, his body was still rather uncoordinated. Before he could check himself and see why (am I hurt?), he heard footsteps.

Shrinking further back into the darkness between a pair of dumpsters (was I followed?), he watched a man, a teenage wanna-be thug really, pass by.

Alex peered out and saw the thug pull out a weapon and level it at the man he was sneaking up on.

Now, we all know Alex and that he doesn't always think first. So, it should come as no surprise that he threw himself at the thug with a yell.

There was a shout of pain and the gun discharging then Alex found himself at the base of one of the bins he had been hiding behind without a clear idea of how he got there and a new throbbing pain in his side.

Alex lifted his head when a shadow fell over him and looked up. And up. And up.

He's tall, Alex thought muzzily.

"Aren't you brave, jumping on him like that?" a soft Scottish voice murmured. The man reached down and gently lifted Alex, curling him against his chest. "Why don't you come home with me and we'll get you cleaned up?"

Alex blinked slowly, realizing that something was vastly wrong, but couldn't quite grasp what it was.

The man carrying him stepped over the unconscious thug and made his way down the street, his free hand absently scratching behind one of Alex's ears.

Alex peered up at the man, confused over what he was doing before being struck with a sudden sense of familiarity. Blond hair cut close to his skull, sharp gray eyes, and a small scar along his jaw made for an interesting profile.

His eyes drifted shut.

Hearing a door click shut and the jingling crash of keys being dropped on a table, Alex jerked awake. he blinked and looked around, still held to the man's chest.

"Dave?" a voice called as the owner, a brunet with hazel eyes appeared in the doorway. "What happened? You were supposed to get back before me."

Alex stared at the other man, feeling that same sense of familiarity. Maybe if there were better lighting he'd know why.

"I had to walk," was the answer as Alex was jostled slightly, drawing the other man's attention.

"Uh..."

"This little guy saved me a bullet in the back." He set the, most likely stolen, gun on the small table in the kitchen.

"So you brought him back here?"

That isn't...

"Hey," the brunet continued without waiting for a response. "Is it just me, or does he remind you of Cub? He's all tiny and blond."

It is Eagle! So...

Alex blinked as he was hefted to be face to face with the blond.

"...Aside from that I don't think that's a good enough comparison, yeah, he does."

That's Snake.

"Planning on keeping him?" Eagle asked, leaning against the door frame.

Snake shifted Alex against his chest again. "...Yeah, I think so." He started running the water for the sink, absently checking the temperature of it.

Keep me? What? You can't keep a person.

Alex opened his mouth to say something but Eagle beat him to it.

"Can we name him Cub?"

Alex saw the amused look Snake shot Eagle. " 'We'?"

"We're flatmates and teammates. We share everything."

"Since when?"

"Now," was the happily chirped response as the taller man pushed into the kitchen and took a few steps nearer to the blond.

Alex went to speak again, feeling rather indignant that they were pretending he couldn't understand them or speak up for himself when he caught sight of the chrome toaster. He saw Snake, saw where the soldier was supposed to be holding him. The only problem was that Snake was holding a kitten.

What the hell is going on?!