Disclaimer: Do people even do these disclaimers anymore, or is that more circa '10s? I do not own Alex Rider.

Chapter 51: Tipping Point

It was a long and restless night. There was no way to tell the time, but Alex knew he was wide awake late into the night. The noises from upstairs had gradually died down, until only the periodic perimeter check was his way of telling time – and even then, the stretches between movement seemed to be longer and longer every time.

By the time the sky started lightening, Alex had given up on sleep and taken to pacing the room. His stomach growled uncomfortably and the small bottle of water from the night before hadn't been enough to sate his thirst.

There was always the possibility that the maid would come back with more broth and water, but Alex wasn't holding out much hope. He was very much dehydrated and was rapidly falling over the edge into irreversible dehydration. Perhaps Raab's plan now was to just let Alex dehydrate and starve from lack of attention.

That was a terrifying thought.

He would come back eventually though.

Raab had seemed so entranced by his little project and the havoc he had wreaked – he wasn't going to just dump him by the wayside. He didn't work like that. At least, that's what Alex was hoping.

A gnawing part of his brain was afraid that he had missed his chance though. Raab had spilled his evil plan and what he was going to do next – little Alex Rider was no longer an important player. Not to Raab at least.

Perhaps Raab would pass him off to his partner – whoever that was.

The pipes ran upstairs, before someone came thundering down the stairs.

A rush.

Different.

Voices rose near the front of the house – certainly out of the ordinary.

Someone was here.

Maybe it was Raab, back finally, after dealing with whatever crisis had risen up.

Or it was the elusive him.

Whatever the case, Alex was no long in control of the situation – he hadn't been for days. Raab could arrive at any moment and that moment would give him his one opportunity.

The knife was pressed uncomfortably into his side; every time he sat down, the hilt dug into his stomach, reminding him of what he had to do. There was no room for error here.

Even if everything lined up perfectly, he was only going to get one chance. And as soon as he managed that, his life was likely forfeit. Perhaps even before that. There was no way that the guards in the house were just going to let him leave – even if Raab were out of the picture.

But it would possibly be enough to upset the balance. Enough for MI6 to stop dragging their heels on putting the pieces together and getting Cameron and Jacobs home safely. If he were really lucky, it would be enough to set the rumors to rest. No one would continue to seek vengeance against Alex Rider and his friends and family members.

And… maybe he would finally have peace.

Never in his life had he lost the will to live. He wanted to live, but the bigger picture was more important. He was alive now, but circumstance just kept screwing up everything around himself. Too many things had happened in the past few years – and no matter what Ni-the others tried to tell him, there was no way he was coming out of it on the other side. Not anymore.

Self-sacrificial idiot.

They couldn't hold it against him.

He was done fighting.

He just had to do what he could to help the others, one last time.

He settled onto the bed, pulling the few lessons he had managed in mediation. The more he thought about everything – taking out Raab was the best for everyone, even if Raab was the only player, even though it was a guaranteed suicide mission – the more at ease he got with the consequences.

It was just his last adventure.

Boots clicking down the hall toward his room were the only warning he had. He had never heard Raab come in to the house – no ubiquitous can tapping along – which meant that it was a toss-up as to who would be waiting for him in the room.

Thug Three made a reappearance for the first time in days, pushing open Alex's door and glaring at him in the process.

Alex stared back with a blank stare, heart calm and settled in a hyper-aware daze. The thug was unimportant – he just hoped all his psyching himself up for the ultimate stroke against Raab wasn't going to backfire.

"Stupid boy," the man spat the words at him, crossing the room in a few steps and roughly grabbing him by the arm. "Making Raab angry was a bad idea."

Alex turned the words over in his head as he allowed himself to be dragged down the hall. Angry.

It was the first time he had heard Thug Three speak – he wasn't the same man from the room upstairs. And unless the maid had spilled his secret, then it wasn't likely that Raab had any idea about his little adventure the day before.

If Raab were angry… then perhaps… There was a sharp flutter of hope in his chest that maybe his message had gotten out. Of course, if Raab knew so quickly… And an angry Raab was an uncontrollable variable that Alex wasn't sure how to compensate for. After all, the last time he had seen Raab truly angry, he had shot a man at point blank range.

Thug Three dragged him into the main room and Raab was once again standing by the large window and staring out.

It was eerily reminiscent of when he had shot the last spy.

Alex had no protection against a head shot and a knife was a pretty useless weapon in a long-distance fight. He would have to get closer to Raab. Or get Raab to come to him.

"Mister Rider…" Raab stretched the name out, as if a curse, but continued staring out the window, leaning ever so slightly on his cane. "Why, Mister Rider, it seems you haven't appreciated our hospitality."

Alex kept quiet, watching the tense line of Raab's back carefully.

"I thought we had a bit of an understanding, Mister Rider." Raab turned around, fixing an angry glare on Alex. "But imagine my surprise when I learn that MI6—" He spat the word with distaste, "—has somehow decided that my manufacturing plants were suspect. DINI raided the Lima plant yesterday morning. It was already cleared out, but somehow… someone knew."

Alex swallowed, but didn't say anything. He didn't know anything about manufacturing plants in Lima – either MI6 had put clues together on their own, or one of the conversations he didn't remember held that little gem.

Raab crossed the room until he was right in front of Alex. "Turn out your pockets." It wasn't a request; it was a demand.

Alex hesitated for a moment too long and Thug three shook his shoulder roughly. "Do as he says."

Hesitantly, Alex reached his hand into his pocket. His fingertips brushed the hilt of the knife, but that wasn't in his pocket. Grudgingly though, he pulled out the music player.

"What do we have here?" Raab asked, plucking the music player out of Alex's hand. "Feeling sentimental, Mister Rider?"

Alex shrugged, keeping a careful façade of nonchalance. "It's dead."

Raab held it for a long moment, before dropping it on the table. "Hmm… but since when?" It apparently wasn't a rhetorical question and with Alex's lack of answer, Raab grabbed his bad wrist and twisted. "When."

Alex gasped at the renewed pain. "I-I don't…" He tried to take a step back, to pull back his arm to his own control, but Thug Three grasped his shoulders keeping him in place. "It was… it… the battery was almost dead a week ago—" Which was true, it had been at 15% for quite a few days. It would have died much sooner if he hadn't been careful to turn it off whenever he wasn't using it. "—and then it stopped working."

Raab made a sharp motion with his head toward Thug Three. "Ven!"

The man released his grip on Alex's shoulders and backed out of the room.

Alone.

Raab stepped back, dropping Alex's arm and threw the music player across the room. It clattered against the wall, no doubt breaking into pieces. Raab was within striking distance – but Alex knew he wouldn't be fast enough. Not with the waves of pain rushing up his arm.

"You make things very difficult, Mister Rider."

Alex licked his lips and shrugged. "I'm sorry?"

"Who would have thought that after all this time, little old Alex Rider was still important to MI6." He turned to pace back in front of the window. "Maybe we've underestimated your usefulness. He has plans for you of course, but… Perhaps dangling you like the little bait you are would work so much better. MI6 doesn't have the man power to watch everywhere, after all. They rely far too heavily on their network."

Alex let his hand creep up to the hilt of the knife while Raab's back was turned, but quickly rearranged his hands when the man paced back in his direction. Made it look more like he was cradling his injured arm.

"But they can't patch up leaks and holes in their network when they're so busy looking for a child. The project in Bolivia has been an unmitigated success." He turned a sneer in Alex's direction. "And apparently, we have you to thank for that."

Knives were short distance weapons. If Raab just came closer, then turned away for a split second, there would be an opening. An infinitesimally small opening, but it would be his only shot. Raab was armed – the holster was visible under the edge of his jacket. He wouldn't hesitate to use it.

"—and you've been such a beautiful test subject."

Alex blanched as he tuned back in. That was the last thing he wanted continuing.

Raab grinned at him, not a touch of warmth in the gesture. "Yes, it has become clear over the past few days that it is about time we moved on to the next stage."

Burning.

Freezing.

Pain.

"It's a shame he won't remember this."

"Screamed so beautifully."

Like fire under his skin.

"It is a shame that he'll have to start all over." Raab paced forward until he was directly in front of Alex. "I'm sure we won't have quality responses anymore, but well… you cannot continue to mess with our plans. It's too delicate."

Alex couldn't resist a shudder at the thought of starting over. Would that mean that they would fake his death and lock him away in a dark corner cell for the rest of eternity? If they hadn't faked his death already.

Raab pressed forward into Alex's personal space and he couldn't help but stumble back a few steps, fear flaring through him.

This was it.

The perfect position.

His limbs felt locked.

"He has been waiting very patiently, but let's be clear who runs the show here. This is my project."

He needed the knife.

Just a few inches down.

Raab pressed forward again, until Alex was backed into the wall.

Trapped.

He couldn't move, not without giving himself away.

"Oh child," Raab leaned forward, until he was whispering into Alex's ear. "Surely you didn't think we would just end things here?"

It was the perfect position. He just had to move.

"Though your lack of fire this time around has been disappointing. Much more… dispassionate this time. Who knew that all it takes to break little Alex, was to pull him away from his friends? All the fight, gone."

His fingers gripped the hilt of the knife.

It had sounded great in his mind, then plan. Simple, even.

Just one simple pull and thrust.

Kill Raab.

But…

"Those pesky little soldiers following you around were at least good for something," Raab breathed, "You got to feel something again, didn't you? Pain at their deaths. What will it be like when we rewrite your memories? Will you forget about them too? He likes to say this technology is more than just in the moment. Why, we could do anything."

Alex felt like he had stopped breathing. He couldn't pull in any air, for fear that the wrong move would alert Raab.

But…

No.

He wasn't a guinea pig. He wasn't going to let them do whatever they wanted.

Raab pressed closer, trapping the knife against Alex's skin – and in that moment, Alex lost.

"Oh, little Alex." Raab pressed closer, his hand trapping the hilt of the knife against his skin, pushing Alex's pathetic attempts at grasping it, away. "Oh, you are naughty. What did you expect to do with this, hmm?"

Alex swallowed.

Failure.

This was it.

He missed his opportunity.

He couldn't do and Raab had found him out.

Raab pressed his forearm across Alex's throat, pinning him in place. "You've been busy, haven't you?" He pressed a little harder, cutting off the air. The other hand tugged at the knife and pulled it loose. "And just where did you find this, hmm? You will be punished—"

The door to the kitchen abruptly opened and Maria stared at them with a wide-eyed gaze.

"Vete!" Raab snarled in her direction, pressing even more firmly at Alex's throat.

Maria just stood there, shocked expression on her face, tea service in her hands. The image was starting to blur in front of Alex as he struggled to gasp in a breath of air.

"Dejanos!"

Air.

Freezing cold.

Choking.

Coughing.

His fingers came up involuntarily, scrabbling at the arm across his throat.

No!

He wanted to scream, yell, thrash, but the hands held him.

Sounds roared in his ears as the pressure increased. Raab's face turned into nothing but a blurred image.

It felt like the very bones in his neck were cracking.

He dug his nails in, trying to find purchase, pulling against the object that was—

Something.

Anything.

A knee.

A fist.

Anything.

Nothing.

Dripping.

Falling.

He was losing.

Gone.

Killed.

Unsuccessful.

Failure.

Black points of light filtered the edges of his vision.

Too late.

Not enough.

He couldn't—

Raab was stronger.

The fight was draining out of his bones.

Weak scrabbles.

Ineffective defenses.

And then he was falling through the air.

Pressure gone.

Released.

He could gasp.

Gasping. Choking.

Sharp inhales that felt like grating glass on his throat, but it was air. Oxygen. Nearly in tandem with the realization he could breathe came the need to vomit – but he couldn't. He had to breathe.

"Up, up!" Hands shook his shoulder, interrupted his desperate gasps of air. "Chico, come."

Feminine.

Different.

Not the same.

His throat burned with every breath.

Something was not right.

"No hay time, chico." The hands gripped under his armpits, partially lifting him off the ground. Seeming to try encouraging him to support himself.

He wasn't sure he was ready.

Alex coughed some more, feeling it rip through his throat.

"We go, we go."

The room was spinning, but the black was slowly creeping away at the edges. Reality was reasserting itself.

"Wh-at?" The word was choked and garbled, triggering a coughing spell that made him want to vomit again.

"Levantate." The voice was insistent. "Question, later. No hay time."

The voice penetrated his thoughts. Maria.

The last few minutes slowly trickled through his consciousness.

Raab. Accusations. Discovery. Punishment.

He blinked as he pushed himself into a more upright position.

Raab was on the floor, unmoving. Dead?

"Come, no time." She pressed fingers to his throat gently, before giving him what was probably supposed to be a smile. "Get better, but no time. Come, come. Está peligroso."

Alex shoved himself up on his hands and knees, swallowing convulsively. Sheer force of will was the only thing keeping the bile in his stomach.

The knife was on the floor, bloodied. Not his work, that was for sure.

Maria shoved an arm under his shoulder and helped him leaver himself up from the floor. She was a good head shorter than he was, but… he wasn't quite up to moving on his own. She was more than just a cook, or maid, or… whatever.

Together, they stumbled toward the open kitchen.

Something hard pressed into his hip – her gun artfully concealed under her garments. Maria, the cook.

Alex shook his head, trying to process it. She was not what she appeared.

The guards hadn't shown up yet – but couldn't have missed the commotion.

Maria paused at the door, before glancing up at Alex. "Better?"

He shrugged a shoulder, not quite yet trusting himself to speak for fear of setting off another coughing jag.

They stepped through to the kitchen and Alex paused at the scene that greeted them.

Thug Three was obviously dead. Slit throat.

He turned wide eyes on Maria. She was tiny.

"Emmerson not stupid," Maria dropped her voice to a whisper. "Alert others."

Alex nodded, as if he understood what had just happened. Thug Three was dead. Raab was potentially dead – or in the process of dying, based on the sheer amount of blood. And Maria was apparently intent on getting him out of the house.

She was obviously a local – the broken English seemed more a fact of life than something she put on. It would be much easier in Spanish…

He opened his mouth to say something, vibrations grating in his throat, but she reached up and shushed him. "Wait." She patted his shoulder once, half propping him against the table in the kitchen. His legs still felt shaky.

She checked around the kitchen, grabbed a sheaf of papers, and then looked out the external door before gathering him up and pulling him out.

He felt shocky.

Disoriented.

He had just faced down what was probably either his death or eternal torture just moments earlier.

And she was here.

They paused at the door, with Maria cocking her head to the side, listening. Alex glanced around as well, listening for the telltale signs of the other guards. It was hard to believe that no one had heard the scuffle in the main room. Or maybe that was the norm for Raab… Hard to believe that no one had heard Maria taking out Thug Three without upsetting whatever delicate balance the guards had going.

She had obviously been planning too. Raab didn't attack him until just before Maria entered – and by then, she would have already killed Thug Three.

Something else had spurred her into action.

Seeming satisfied by the lack of guards, Maria pulled him across the dirt drive to an antiquated jeep. It looked to be little more than a pile of rusted metal, but Maria seemed to think it held their goal. Alex wasn't about to argue, but did send a long glance at the newer, functioning SUVs.

She didn't wait for any input from him, just shoved him through the door. "In, in!" She crammed into the driver's seat, pushing him across into the passenger's seat. There was hardly enough space, but she kicked out at the front console, knocking loose the panel under the steering wheel. "Necesito… eh, make bridge?"

Alex blinked as she started fiddling with the wires. Jumping the car? He had certainly seen enough videos in his misguided youth that suggested that was a lot harder than the movies made it seem. A glint of light caught his attention and he grabbed at the keys thrown up far onto the dash. He tapped her shoulder, holding up the key, and got a brilliant smile in return.

"Thinking with cabeza, chico." The jeep rumbled to life and hardly a moment passed before she kicked it into gear. It was anything but subtle – someone was sure to notice they were getting away – and Alex held on for dear life as they bumped over the road. They were flying along the dirt road in just a matter of seconds, leaving the house far behind.

Alex sagged. The shaking had moved into his hands and he clasped them together to mask it.

He could breathe.

It was fine.

Maria was getting him out.

Help from unexpected corners.

He swallowed carefully, feeling it grate in his throat. A glance at the rear view mirror showed the beginnings of livid bruises around his throat. A shudder passed through him as he realized Raab hadn't intended to stop until he passed out.

And who knew what the plan had been after that.

Maria had saved his life – and he had no idea who she was.

After all, it was all too good to be true. That someone would come to his rescue in the very last moment he had… He hadn't managed to take out Raab, but she had.

Of course, there was always the possibility that following her was just going to get him into even more trouble. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, after all.

Alex swallowed again. He could at least breathe. "Quien… es?" He managed to croak out.

Maria threw a glance in his direction before shouting over the noise of the engine. "Habla Español?"

He settled for a nod. Gestures would probably get him further than trying to talk.

"I am Maria Gutierrez Alablanca, agent for DINI," she said in Spanish, spelling out the acronym.

Alex made a 'go on' gesture with his hand. He wasn't familiar with DINI.

"National Intelligence." She flashed a grin in his direction, before turning to the road. "There was a broadcast to all agents, to look for someone with your description two days ago. I had to contact my handler to get more instructions. Your guardians know where you are."

His guardians. Who was filling that position these days? MI6? The remnants of S-Unit? Someone else?

"There's a team waiting in the valley," she said, "Your agent fox will be there."

Fox.

Fox was waiting for him. Not the others, but Fox specifically. If Ben was in the area, then… maybe MI6 was finally making a move. Maybe his message had gotten through and they had enough on Raab to bring his empire down.

Or maybe, they just knew where Alex was and were coming to get him.

That was a hard possibility to wrap his mind around, especially after everything he had done to try to get rid of Raab on his own – and how likely that was to not working out.

Alex tried to take another deep breath, tried to reorient himself. Tried to calm his heart back to something resembling normal.

And he had been told to take it easy for the next couple of months… That his heart needed a chance to recover.

It had been two months.

He could have missed rescue by only a smattering of minutes…

"How long—" The words broke in his throat, but it was enough to get the point across to Maria.

"An hour to the valley," she hesitated, before adding, "If we are lucky."

An hour for someone to catch up with them. Or for someone to sound the alarm and reinforcements to find them from the valley side.

Alex closed his eyes and let his head rest against the back of the seat. His throat really hurt and he could feel his heart beating in it – a sure sign that the swelling was only starting. People died from their throats swelling shut.

"Rest," Maria said, raising her voice above the noise of the engine. "I will tell you when we are close."

Alex swallowed carefully before giving a slight nod. Even if she didn't turn out to be the good person she pretended to be, there was nothing he could do now. His fate, for the time being, was in her hands.

For better or for worse.

A/N: Hmmm... Thoughts and predictions?