A/N - This story is my stress/nerve reliever for the year! I told myself I wouldn't start one this year because of my course load at school, but writing it has been very therapeutic this weekend and I intend to continue it. Regular updates may not happen, but I will try my hardest!

Anyway, please R&R, tell me what you'd like to see happen, give constructive criticism... it is helpful xD

Also, is there a willing Beta out there? I keep switching my tenses xP

I hope this doesn't confuse you, but when Snake interacts with Cub I will refer to each of them by their Codename's. When Alex is alone, I will refer to him as Alex. That is all.

Summary; Alex was tired, so tired that the only way he could get away from it was to end it. But that plan backfired, and now the teenaged spy under the supervision of a new Guardian. Someone who has been where he is now, in a dark place, a place that will either swallow you whole, or send you back stronger than before.

Never Back Down
Chapter One

Snake wasn't a stranger to the dark world of depression.

But these marks, the ones so carefully carved into Cub's skinny wrists, left a bad taste in his mouth. It twisted his heart to see the effect his world had on the child. So young and already so full of despair, Snake had been twenty two when his life had spiraled downward and it had taken three years for the man to break out of it.

Cub was only fifteen.

The pad of his index finger delicately traced an angry red cut that had yet to fully heal. It was perfectly straight and fairly deep, Cub shuddered as Snake applied a bit of pressure to the wound. There was obviously still a bit of soreness there, it would disappear in a few days, but the scar would stick around for years to come.

Snake released the stress he'd been applying and moved to inspect the rest of the damage. Halfway through rolling up Cub's sleeve, the teenaged spy decided that he'd had enough and pulled away sharply. The SAS operative instantly let go.

Cub yanked his sleeve back down and held his arm protectively against his chest. There was an odd edge in his otherwise blank expression that clearly warned Snake to back off. This wasn't the first time Cub had reacted as such, there had been several instances over the four days they'd been under the same roof where in, Snake had tried to assess the various injuries and Cub had let him – to a point.

Each day Cub would draw a line and each day Snake chose not to cross it.

He worked within the kid's comfort zone – stopped when asked, never pushed too far. It was only when Cub felt he could turn to Snake for help that the man could truly offer it. Trust had to be built, and for that to happen, Snake had to prove that he was trustworthy – which meant he had to remain within Cub's boundaries.

"The first aid kit is in the bathroom cabinet," Snake scratched the side of his nose absently, "try to clean and dress those before they become infected – okay Cub?"

He didn't get a response from the boy at all, not even a brief glance. Instead, Cub gazed pointedly over Snake's shoulder at the clock on the wall. It was a not-so-subtle hint that the soldier decided not to take any notice of. With a scowl aimed at his troublesome ward, Snake leant forward and brusquely snapped his fingers.

Cub twitched at the loud noise. Faint annoyance flickered in his expression as he unwillingly centered his attention on Snake – who was studying him with a frown.

"Do I need to do it for you?" Snake cocked an eyebrow in question.

"No."

It was short, cold and left no room for argument.

It was also the first words he'd spoken all afternoon.

"Alright," the Scotsman conceded easily, happy for the small victory. "Bathroom's that way," he pointed towards it, "if you need anything, just shout."

Snake moved out of the way of the door so that Cub could head through without a problem. But even so, Cub still put as much distance between them as he could.

Alex was tired.

It wasn't the type of exhaustion sleep deprivation caused, either. This was bone deep, a fatigue that originated from his very core. It wasn't something a few sleeping pills could fix, unless, of course, he went and swallowed the entire bottle.

If Alex Rider ceased to exist, would the weariness leave too?

Jack hadn't understood. Alex had confided in her, told her about the tiredness. She considered him her brother, so naturally she'd tried to lend a hand. A couple of sedatives and a sweet goodnight kiss on the cheek was all it took in her eyes. Later, when Jack had found him drowning in his own vomit, she was heartbroken.

They'd stuck it out through thick and thin. Jack had always been there by his side. But she hadn't been enough for him, even though they both wished she had been. Five weeks after the incident, Jack had left. She said that he needed to heal and that she wasn't the one who could help him do it. Alex needed someone who understood, who had seen the horrors of his job and lived through the depression.

Before she had disappeared, though, Jack had proven her love once more.

She'd found Snake.

There had been a lot of people involved in the search for his new guardian. Most notably, there was Ben, who had sent Jack in the direction of his old Unit member.

Somehow, the quirky American had railroaded MI6 and gotten them to appoint the soldier as his legal custodian. Ben vaguely mentioned that Smither's may have had a hand in that debate – Alex couldn't be sure. He'd been distracted during that conversation, trying to figure out why Snake was so bloody important.

Why did his guardian have to be that man? That same man who had brought utter hell down on him at the military camp – the one that had nearly broken him.

It turned out Snake had something that Alex needed very much.

He'd survived the dark place – he understood what it could drive its victim's to do.

Snake watched Cub walk down the hallway without making a noise. It was eerie how a teenager could be so stealthy. With a family the size of his, Snake knew quite a few kids, and a majority of them were incredibly boisterous and rowdy. But then, none of those children had been employed by MI6 at fourteen years old.

Still, it was a highly disconcerting trait Cub had. Snake had almost upended a fry pan full of bacon that morning when the boy had slipped into the kitchen, as silent as a mouse. He was not used to having someone in the house that had abilities on par with his own. Cub's sudden appearance had nearly given him a stroke and a couple of third degree burns – although the kid had seemed amused.

The sound of rusty hinges moaning as Cub opened the bathroom cabinet echoed throughout the flat. Plastic clattered onto tiles and there was a muffled curse, followed by what Snake could only assume was a foot kicking his poor first aid kit.

There was a smash, and Snake envisioned his supplies strewn all across the floor.

Upon inspection, that was exactly what he found.

Cub crossed his arms over his chest and pinned Snake with a fierce look. The lid of the kit had separated itself from the box and its contents had flown out in every direction. Snake raked a hand through his hair as he surveyed the mess. Overall, those materials had cost him one hundred and fifty pounds all together.

Which was a lot of money – but Snake only ever bought the best of the best.

"You right?" Cub didn't need to answer, Snake had already deduced as much from his attitude. But the curt nod the teen offered was a definite improvement, it was forced but it was also unprovoked – Cub had responded on his own accord.

With a sigh, Snake knelt down and began the tedious task of tidying up. He didn't ask for any help as he started on the broken bottle of Betadine, nor did he receive any – at first. After a minute or so, Cub dropped onto his knees and poked around for several seconds. Stiffly, the boy reached out and snatched a few cotton swabs from the ground and placed them in the overturned medical kit.

Steadily the two worked. By the time they met in the middle, Snake had a sizable pile of debris on one side while Cub had a neat mound on the other. After plucking the last syringe, Snake shifted into a crouch and waited for Cub to follow suit. There was still some salvageable equipment, and Cub had to tend his wrists.

Carefully, the soldier extracted two cotton balls and a roll of bandages. Inside his bathroom cupboard was a spare vial of antiseptic, and as soon as he retrieved that, he turned back to Cub – who had started to roll up the sleeves of his jacket.

When Snake made to hand the stuff over to the kid, Cub extended both his arms.

The soldier immediately got the unspoken message and tentatively took a hold of one of the proffered limbs. Cub was tense, Snake could feel it. He quickly corrected himself and switched to lightly supporting Cub's arm instead of outright gripping it. Cub settled a little bit after that, but he was still as cautious as before.

Snake noted the boy was reluctant to look him in the eye and couldn't do it for more than a few seconds at best. He had kept his gaze trained on Cub's face throughout the entire ordeal and Cub had known it. After Snake had dabbed at an almost healed scab and accidently caused it to crack open, which had made the sting of the antiseptic more vicious against the fresh wound – Cub avoided Snake.

Not in the literal sense. Cub remained where he was. But he hid himself with his eyes, evaded all the man's attempts to make direct eye contact. In the end, Snake stopped trying and focused on his task at hand. There were more cuts than he had anticipated; they littered nearly every inch of the teenaged spy's pale skin.

Even as the white bandages covered them, Snake couldn't get the image out of his head. There had to be over a hundred slices and those were just the ones he was allowed to see. From personal experience, Snake knew that self harmers didn't stick to one place on their body. Chances were Cub had been cutting somewhere else, his legs, his stomach, his chest, and hell, maybe even his feet.

Knowing a search would be heavily protested against, and end up being forced, Snake chose the only other option he believed he had. Once he'd finished dressing the wounds, he stood and bodily lifted the kid onto his feet. Then, without warning, his hand snaked out and caught Cub's chin before he could react.

"Cub," Snake allowed a hint of authority to seep into his voice as he made the boy look at him, "you're not to cut anymore, not in this house – you understand?"

To make himself clear, he squeezed Cub's arm until he winced.

He waited, and then added, rather calmly, "Trust me, kid, you don't want me to catch you doing it again. I won't do anything, because that's not how I work. But, I will call someone who sure as hell will, and that isn't something you want, is it?"

Cub, much too aware of whom that someone would be, frantically shook his head.

Wolf tended to have that effect on people.

And after their last encounter, Snake could bet that Cub didn't want to be within a thousand mile radius of the temperamental Hispanic soldier. The blow Wolf had dealt probably still smarted; it really did appear painful. Snake rubbed the bruise that stood out all too clearly on Cub's cheekbone. For a second time, Cub winced.

Snake finally released the boy's chin and ruffled his hair, throwing it into complete disarray. Cub eyed him mutinously through blonde bangs, wariness transformed into irritation at the action. Jack had used to do the exact same thing.

He missed Jack; although, she would probably have threatened him with something a lot worse than an antisocial and constantly pissed off SAS operative.

Snake disentangled his hand from Cub's hair and backed off. He turned away and headed for the door. He was almost out when he stopped and turned back, a sad smile playing across his mouth. Cub watched him, waiting for whatever it was Snake had obviously paused to say. Eventually the man stated, in a gentle voice;

"Take it from someone who's fallen, Cub. It's a long way down."

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