Down the Rabbit Hole
By Shiinmaru-dono and Sho-dono
Author's Note From Shiinmaru-dono:
A few warnings before you ignore this and scroll down to the Prologue below: There is some seriously squicky concepts floating around this massive bit of fanfiction. By squicky I mean: rape, torture, attempted-suicide, self-harm, mpreg (and you're just going to love how we explain that one), slash (but you knew that), bondage, a little S&M, and some general violence/gore/blood. So please, don't misunderstand me when I say that I ignore all flames (my skin has gotten a wee more thick since my first fanfiction) and if your flame tickles my grammar-nazi instincts by containing poor spelling, poor punctuation, and/or even poorer grammar I'm probably going to find your email and send your bashing-review back to you once I've corrected it. If you don't like any of the things I've mentioned above, leave now and keep your mouth shut; if you don't like something after you've been warned you have no right to bash me about it.
There is a massive amount of OOC: You'll not recognize Alex and Yassen by the time we're done with this – well, you'll recognize them at the end just not in the middle. Personally, I've only read the first three to four books of the series but my co-authoress as read all of them; so there should be few mistakes. That said, this pretty much goes 'round the bend into AU after the whole Air Force One fiasco (as noted in the fact that Yassen is still breathing). I conned my co-authoress into going even further into AU than most – you'll probably find it funny when you note just exactly what we've done.
So now that you know that this is very much NON-canon, please keep this in mind: The first person who flames me about canon is going to suddenly find themselves in the middle of the Everglades butt-naked and far, far away from any form of help. Also note that we have no beta and are desperately seeking one that can put up with two VERY abrasive personalities that make mules look positively compliant. The person who reviews the most about grammar/spelling/punctuation is going to be hunted down and made to beta the novella you're about to read. That last threat isn't idle.
One more thing to you all need to be aware of before I release you from detention: This was written because Sho-dono needed some way to talk me down from suicide. No, I'm not telling you the details of that; all you need to know is that it was really bad and the first fifteen or so pages were born from that night. I tell you this so you understand exactly why there is such a colossal amount of self-harm, self-hatred, depression, angst, and generally depressing themes throughout the text. If that bothers you, then, like I said above: Stop reading. It's not going to hurt me if you don't like my fanfiction just don't stick around and snark about it.
Well, I'm done with my longest author's note ever. I now release all of you darling readers from detention. Enjoy the fic with my blessing. May whatever god/deity/spirit you believe in bless all of you.
Hold on one more second, my darling readers. This is the co-authoress that was mentioned above, and yes every single thing she said above was true. SO if you find this fiction (for that is what it is, children, fiction.) to rub irritably against your closed minds then too bad so sad. The two of us have authored more stories than many of you, only two of which have ever truly been graced the light of day (or semi-twilight considering our sleep habits) so trust me when I say this. You are naught but peons to us. Fodder. Nothing more. Your words of scorn and ridicule, for there are those amongst you who will ignore our ample warning and we all know that, will make us laugh at your stupidity. Yet those who give us compliments OR, better yet, constructive criticism on how our writings may be improved will find themselves smiled upon by the pair of us. We hope that you have enjoyed our deranged rambling and if you have ignored this and sent a badly put together flame then I place damnation upon your fool of a head; damnation upon your blood and bone. Enjoy.
Prologue
Alex gazed tiredly out the heavily tinted car window at the depressing sight of overly tall office buildings and banks. It was almost his eighteenth birthday and MI6 was calling upon him, for the first time in almost two years actually. That they were calling upon him after so long a time of silence was disturbing. The fact that he was only a month away from his eighteenth birthday and was being summoned by Mr. Blunt was cause for alarm. At eighteen he would be an adult and free from MI6 – well, free to turn them down and demand payment, at least. Regardless, Alex felt a sense of danger; the faintest scent on the wind of a storm about to break upon the horizon. Normally, the young spy would simply take the sliver of malaise and laugh but never before had he felt such a thing just approaching the British intelligence's headquarters.
It was almost as if his body knew something his mind hadn't quite focused on yet. His stomach roiled, and his chest ached. His palms were sweaty and his muscles twitched at every small sound. As the car began to slow Alex felt his heart beat faster, harder, and for a second he feared it my pulse itself straight out of his chest. What is wrong with me? he thought even as he exited the bland gray car and stepped towards the overly familiar glass doors of the Royal & General Bank.
A sudden, strange, absurd thought struck him as he entered the building, I wish I had Yassen at my back right now.
"He's expecting you," was all the lady at the desk outside of Mr. Blunt's office said
The blonde nodded before walking in, never noticing the mournful glance the secretary sent at his back.
He knew that the thought was absurd, he had watched Yassen die on Air Force One, blood pooling from the bullet wound in his chest. But that didn't stop that odd urge. Over the years the young spy had been partnered up with a number of other agents, some took him seriously, most didn't. But something he found they all seemed to have in common was that at the end of the day they always let him down. Yassen never had. Yassen, regardless of affiliation, motive, or method always managed to save his ungrateful hide in the end. The chair at Mr. Blunt's desk was facing away from the door and Mrs. Jones was nowhere in sight.
"What's the mission?" Alex demanded.
The chair turned around to reveal gray Mr. Blunt holding a gun. There was nothing in his eyes. No pity, no sadness, not even anger. To him this was nothing more than business as usual. One of the agents had outgrown their usefulness and now it was time for them to be...'retired'. "I am very sorry about this, Alex." His finger squeezed the trigger.
Shock, his body wouldn't, couldn't move. Pain, excruciating pain blossomed in his chest for the second time in his life. But there's no Yassen to save me and no Jack to worry about me. Both are dead and, I guess, so am I now... Alex slumped to the ground, dead or unconscious unknown.
Mr. Blunt pressed the buzzer on his intercom. "Please send in the cleaners," was his casual remark before settling down into his chair to finish the piles of paperwork.
