There was someone behind the small cluster of rocks near the vehicles from Sayle Enterprises, Yassen was sure of it. Despite being unable to see or hear anything in that direction, an instinct, honed by years in the field, told him that they were being watched. The unloading of the submarine was going smoothly, so Yassen sauntered casually over to the boulders, not wanting to alarm the watcher into making a move first. His hand was on his gun, as it had been from the moment that he stepped onto the beach. He would be able to draw, aim and fire in less than a second.

The sight that met his eyes filled him with more sadness than he expected. It was Alex Rider, John's son and his spitting image, who was hiding there and watching the events unfolding on the beach. There was no way that it could be anyone else. First his parents, then his uncle and now him. The boy had clearly been warned about him; the terror in his eyes was unmistakable, and it would only be there if he knew that Yassen was a contract killer. He couldn't allow the boy to leave here, not after what he had seen. He couldn't be allowed to report back to MI6. Yassen pulled his gun out and, pushing the sadness back down, fired.

No one on the beach had noticed anything. Yassen's gun had been silenced and he was far enough away that nobody had seen him fire. If anyone had glanced in his direction, it would simply look like he was searching the perimeter, making sure that they were alone. Yassen continued on a circuit of the beach, carrying on the charade, but he knew that they were now alone. There were no other unauthorised persons on the beach.

The guards continued to unload the submarine until all of the boxes were packed carefully into the back of the vans that had been driven down the winding track from Sayle Enterprises. The submarine left, disappearing back into the watery depths. Yassen climbed into the front of one of the jeeps with Nadia Vole driving, and allowed himself to be carried off into the night.

Three hours later, Yassen Gregorovich was back on the beach, having attended to everything immediately important at Sayle Enterprises. Alex Rider was lying motionless behind the rocks where Yassen had shot him. Once more, sadness rose in the assassin's chest as he looked at the boy. He was too young to have been dragged into the murky world of spies and assassins by MI6, but there was nothing that Yassen could do about that now. Repressing a sigh, he picked the small, unmoving body up off of the sand and carried it away to deal with it; he couldn't just leave it there for anyone to find, after all.

For the second time in two weeks, Alex opened his eyes, surprised to find that he was still alive. Like the other time, he was lying on a bed in a reasonably large and comfortable room. Unlike the previous time, he was tied to the bed and gagged. Panic rose in him; Yassen Gregorovich hadn't killed him, but instead had knocked him out and kidnapped him. Alex knew that there was surely only one thing that that meant. He would be tortured for information before he was disposed of. Alex writhed on the bed, but nothing he did loosened his bonds. He was trapped, unable to escape.

He didn't know how long he laid there. The blackout curtains gave him no indication as to the time of day. He could only lay there, waiting for the contract killer to return and finish him off, just as he had killed Ian. Mrs Jones' warning echoed in his head. "You are never too young to die." Well, Alex was certainly the living, if soon to be dead, proof of that.

As time drew on, Alex wished that the assassin had just shot him on the beach. He knew practically nothing about Sayles operation and this waiting was possibly a worse torture than anything that Yassen had planned. Alex tried to stop his imagination from running wild as to what the assassin might do to him when he returned. If he returned. He might be planning to just leave Alex here to starve to death as punishment for interfering instead. As quickly as those thoughts occurred to him, Alex tried to push them away but they kept coming, creeping into his mind despite all of the distractions that he tried to use. Each time, he forced himself to think of something else. Jack. Ian. Tom. The homework that he should have been doing right now. How hungry he was. Anything! Eventually, the door to the room clicked open and terror rose once more as Yassen Gregorovich stepped into the room. Alex tried to hide his fear, but he was sure that it was plainly readable on his face. Conversely, Yassen's was inscrutable.

"Alex Rider," Yassen said. It wasn't a question. He knew exactly who Alex was. Even if he hadn't been gagged, Alex wasn't sure that he would have been able to speak. "MI6 were foolish to send you here," Yassen continued. "You are a child. You are not trained. You are not a spy."

He was right and Alex knew it. Alan Blunt and Mrs Jones had blackmailed him into this. They had sent him here with no support. No backup. No training that he could rely on. And this was the result.

"Are you hungry?" the assassin asked, suddenly changing tack. "What would you like for breakfast?" he asked as he removed the gag, allowing Alex to speak for the first time. It occurred to him that he could call for help but dismissed the thought just as quickly as it had arisen. He didn't even know where he was or whether anyone would be close enough to be able to hear him, and he didn't want to incur any more punishment than he was already going to get for snooping around.

"What do you want with me?" he asked quietly.

"I cannot allow you to continue interfering with this operation."

"So why am I still alive?" Alex asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"What reason would I have to kill you?"

Alex was confused. The man was a dangerous assassin so why was he going out of his way to let Alex live? Not that Alex was complaining that he was still alive, but he wanted answers.

"Now, breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," Alex replied sourly. Yassen merely raised an eyebrow in reply as if to say 'suit yourself' before silently turning around and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Alex threw his head back onto the pillow in exasperation, now regretting his stubbornness and wishing he had taken Yassen's offer of breakfast as his stomach rumbled. He set to trying to free himself with renewed vigour, but only succeeded in cutting his wrists with the rope as it dug into him. His ankles weren't as bad because his socks protected his skin, but they were still bruised and sore by the time he gave up again.

After a short breather, Alex began trying to escape once more, although putting more thought into it than he had done before. He examined the thin ropes that bound him to the bed and with some careful manipulation, he managed to contort himself so that he could reach the knots which tied his right wrist with his mouth. It took an extremely long time, and a lot of perseverance, but eventually he managed to get one of the knots undone. Then a second. He was working at undoing the third when he heard the door unlock, so quickly repositioned himself to look like he hadn't been trying to escape before Yassen came in. The assassin appeared with a tray of something that smelled amazing! He took one look at Alex and gave him a withering reprimand with just a look as he saw what Alex had been doing; Alex shrank back at the assassin's intense gaze.

"You'll get those infected, if you're not careful," he said, gesturing at Alex's wrists.

"Maybe they wouldn't if I weren't tied up," Alex retorted, momentarily forgetting that he was in the presence of the man who had killed Ian.

"Maybe," Yassen agreed. "But seeing as your freedom is not currently an option that you have, let's make an agreement. I will undo the ropes, but you will not leave this room."

Alex just glared at the man. As if he had any choice in accepting his terms.

"If you prefer, I can leave the ropes on?" Yassen added, seeing the look on Alex's face.

"No!" Alex protested, a little too quickly. He couldn't deny that he wanted to be able to move around, even if he wouldn't be able to get out of the room.

"Very well," Yassen said as he moved towards the bed. "Don't try anything," he added, and Alex got the impression that it was for his sake, rather than the assassin's. So he just lay there while Yassen cut the ropes, first from his ankles and then from his wrists. As soon as they were free, he instinctively pulled his wrists towards himself and rubbed them with his hands.

"Stop," Yassen warned. "They'll get infected. Here-" he said, pulling a first aid kit, seemingly out of thin air. "-let me clean them."

"Why are you doing this?" Alex asked a few minutes later as Yassen bandaged his newly cleaned wrists.

"I have my reasons."

Understanding that he wasn't going to get any actual answers from the assassin (and forcibly having to restrain himself from sticking his tongue out in retaliation as he would have done if he were speaking with Jack), Alex just sat quietly and allowed Yassen to finish his work.

"Now then," Yassen said as he packed away the first aid kit. "Eat." He placed the tray on Alex's lap as he gave the order but Alex was so hungry that he would have started eating without it. "I'll be back later," Yassen said, almost as a warning as he left. Alex had no doubt that if he tried to escape, the assassin would hunt him down and he would not enjoy the consequences of attempting to run away. Even so, as soon as he had finished his meal, Alex thoroughly searched the room in which he was locked. There was nothing that he could use to even contact anyone, let alone try to escape. The window didn't provide any answers either, when he drew the curtains back. Judging by the view, Alex thought he was still in Cornwall which made sense if Yassen was working for Sayle as well as keeping him prisoner, but the bars made it impossible to climb out.

Hours passed and Alex was getting increasingly frustrated. He was locked up, with no way of contacting MI6 and no way of preventing Sayle's plan, whatever it might be. Eventually, he collapsed on the bed and somehow fell asleep. When he awoke again, it was dark outside and there was a tray of sandwiches by the door and he ate them greedily, knowing he would probably need all of the strength that he could gather for whatever might happen next. The next time that Yassen entered the room, Alex was awake.

"How long do you intend to keep me here?" Alex hissed.

"Until you will be unable to interfere with the operation anymore."

"And how long will that be?"

"Another couple of days," Yassen said simply.

"And then what?" Alex asked defiantly. He presumed that the assassin wouldn't have kept him alive for the duration of Sayle's operation to just kill him after it was over, but he wasn't sure what he would do.

"Then you go home."

"That's it?"

"That's it. And a word of advice. The next time they ask you, say no. This is an adult's world and you are still a child."

"They didn't exactly give me a lot of choice," Alex spat out bitterly.

Yassen scrutinised him with an unreadable expression before turning and leaving without saying another word. At least he had left some more food for him. And he had brought a couple of books so Alex actually had something to do to pass the time.

Three days later, Alex was back in his home in Chelsea, without any idea of what Sayle's plan had been but with the grim knowledge that it must have succeeded. Yassen Gregorovich had returned for him in the small hours of the 2nd of April. He had blindfolded and handcuffed him and led Alex to what must have been a helicopter. He had no way of telling how long they flew for, but he estimated that they were in the air for less than an hour before they landed. It was disconcerting being flown somewhere unknown, completely blind and in the hands of a known assassin. Once the engine powered down, Alex heard Yassen open his door and there was a brief quiet before his own door opened and he was helped down.

"This would be much easier if I could see," he grumbled. Yassen didn't respond but continued to guide Alex down. With a hand on his upper arm, Yassen led Alex across the helipad and into a car. They only drove for a few minutes before he pulled in somewhere and turned off the engine.

"We're here," he said softly as he opened Alex's door. Instead of guiding Alex out, Yassen removed the handcuffs and blindfold and allowed him to climb out himself. Alex gasped as he saw where they were.

"Wait… how?" he began, but before he could put his thoughts into words, Yassen had climbed back into the car and drove off, leaving a stunned Alex standing outside his home in Chelsea. It was still dark out and early in the morning, so he made his way down the garden path and let himself into the house. The house was silent, the clock on the oven read 03:37, so he wasn't surprised that Jack was asleep, especially as she wasn't expecting him home. Suddenly exhausted and ready to collapse into his bed, Alex crept up the stairs as quietly as he could but froze as the landing light turned on just as he reached the top step. Jack had just come out of her room, holding an empty glass which she must have been planning to refill, but she dropped it the moment she saw him.

"Alex?" she gasped, unable to believe her eyes.

"Hey, Jack," Alex replied, the weight that had settled on him over the last few days lifting as they hugged.

"Are you okay? No one has told me anything!"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Alex said wearily, now just wanting to collapse into bed more than anything else.

"What happened to you? How did you get home? Are you sure you're alright?" The questions were coming thick and fast but, as much as he wanted to answer them, he was also practically asleep on his feet.

"Can…" he began, stifling a yawn, "can we talk about it all in the morning, Jack?"

"Of course," Jack said, pulling him into another tight hug. The relief pouring out of her was palpable, and Alex felt awful for making her worry so much. "I'm so relieved that you're home safe!" she whispered into his ear.

"Me too, Jack. Me too," he whispered before extracting himself from her tight embrace and making his way to his bedroom. He didn't even bother to change, but fell into bed, relieved that his ordeal with MI6 was over, but with many, many questions about Yassen Gregorovich. Despite his racing mind, Alex was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"We need to understand what happened to you, Alex."

"I don't know, Mrs Jones!" Alex said. The boy was getting increasingly frustrated with answering the same questions over again, but she and Alan Blunt couldn't understand how he was still alive nor why Sayle's Stormbreaker's hadn't worked as he had intended them to. He had to have the answers, even if he didn't realise it. "I snuck into a convoy that headed to the beach," he began to explain again. "I was watching them unload the submarine when Yassen Gregorovich found me. Although I think he sensed me rather than actually saw me. He shot me with what must have been a knockout dart and kept me a prisoner for a few days - until the operation was finished. He flew me home late last night or early this morning and I slept for a few hours before Jack called you and I came here. That's all I can tell you."

"Very well, Alex," her boss said with a sigh. "Could you wait outside for a moment?"

"Fine," Alex agreed bitterly, pushing his chair back and almost slamming the door on his way out.

"What do you make of that?" he asked as soon as Alex had gone.

"It's unusual," she admitted. "It would have been easier for Gregorovich to kill him on the beach instead of keeping him a prisoner, so why didn't he?" she mused. "And if Alex didn't manage to sabotage the computers to stop the virus, who did?"

"I don't know if we'll ever find out, Mrs Jones, but we should just be very grateful that they did, whoever they are."

It was her dismissal, so Mrs Jones stood up to make her way out of the office and organise a lift home for Alex. It was puzzling, but the department would investigate the various possibilities of who had stopped Sayle's plan from happening as he had intended. And as Alan had said, they would just have to settle for being grateful that they had in the meantime.

A/N: It didn't really fit into the fic, but Yassen was the one to sabotage the Stormbreaker's (he wouldn't want a repeat of Estrov, especially on such a large scale as Sayle was planning). He also wouldn't want it to be traced back to him, knowing what Scorpia would do if they found out, so he was very careful not to leave any evidence of his involvement.

Another excellent fic that explores this from the angle of Yassen being an MI6 asset is Cym's 'Unreliable' over on AO3!

Thank you for reading! 💖