Hey everyone, update's early because I want one up before Christmas then I'll put one up on Christmas, my Christmas anyway =) then im away on holiday for five or so weeks. So yeah.

Thanks for reviews, favourites and alerts =) and just a note to Canislupis13, thanks for the tip on Russian last names, I didn't know that, but to avoid confusion I'll just leave it as Gregorovich.

Love everyone who reviews and everyone who doesn't =) hugs and cookies all around. Hope you enjoy and here we go!

CHAP 8

"Adrienne-"

"Shut up Jones! All I want is to get out of here and get back to my family. Now, move!"

The two guards glanced at Mrs. Jones. She nodded and they stepped out of the way. Slowly I inched past the three of them, my captive between us the whole time. Backing up my foot hit the elevator door.

I held the guard tighter with one arm while quickly bashing the elevator button. Instantly I returned the gun to his head and stepped back into the now open elevator. Just before the doors closed I shoved the guard out and crouched to the side. As soon as my former captive was out of the way the other guards opened fire. One bullet ground through my arm just before the doors were closed. Gasping I clutched the holes with my hand. It felt like I had been burned by a red hot poker.

The doors clanged open and I sprinted towards the sun. It wasn't surprising to see guards step out to stop me. With the gun in my good hand I instinctively fired before the guards could react. Being careful not to kill anyone I made it to the closed doors. They were locked.

Stepping back I shot the glass out before vaulting through into the fresh air. I was now, officially, on the run.

Blood covered most of my arm; I'd need help for that and I could hardly just walk into a hospital. Quickly I ran off down an alley.

Eventually I got to the house I was looking for. Silently opening the back door I walked in, listening for any sounds; the TV was on. Slowly I headed in that direction. The blond New Zealander I was after was slouching on the couch watching football. Slowly he turned around and grinned. Instinctively I dropped to the ground. A bullet whizzed over my head. Forgetting about my handgun I raised one of the automatics. Without hesitating I pulled the trigger. A spray of bullets ripped through the couch. There was a yelp and I stopped firing. It was silent.

Calming my breathing I stood up and went to check if he was dead. Half the bullets had flown through his torso and stomach. There was no way he could've survived but for revenge's sake I grabbed my handgun, held it between his eyes and fired.

Sighing I threw all my weapons on the other couch and went to look around the house. Stopping in the bathroom I took my top off before grabbing a towel and turning on warm water. Slowly I began to clean away the blood, wincing slightly when I pressed too hard. Eventually my arm was clean again. There was a medicine cabinet on the wall behind me. I opened it and grabbed antiseptic, a roll of bandage, needle, thread and triangle bandage.

Sitting back down I spread the antiseptic over the wounds before stitching it, tying the bandage tightly around it and tying it in a sling. Now that my wound was taken care of I looked around the house properly. After about half an hour I found what I was looking for; weapons and ammunition. I grabbed a small handgun, checked it was loaded and the safety was on, shoved it into my waistband and grabbed spare ammo.

Now there wasn't much left to do. After going to the toilet I changed into new clothes; loose pants, t-shirt and a big hoodie. One more thing. I searched the cupboards and soon found what I was looking for. Hair dye. I picked out dark brown, almost black dye. I had always wondered what I looked like with dark hair. Going back to the bathroom I realized I did everything in a pretty strange order. If I had of been thinking I would've done the hair first.

It was quite hard to follow the dye instructions one handed but I managed, just. By the time I was finished I hardly recognized me. I flicked my hood up and left the house not wanting to be there longer than necessary. 'Let his body rot.' I thought as I walked back into town.

Bumping into as many people as possible I got to a supermarket. I bought enough food to last a couple of days, more if I rationed it, using the money I had pick pocketed.

It was only that night when I bunked down in a park that the severity of the situation really hit me. I was on the run from MI6, Scorpia wanted me dead and I had no idea what was happening with Yassen. I was in major trouble. Trouble I'm not sure I could handle on my own.

Slowly with thoughts still circling my head I fell into a restless sleep.

I changed my bandage each morning and evening, buying new supplies with pick pocketed money. Every four hours or so I moved my food stash, keeping it out of sight. Over the next week I wandered through town with my hood up. One day I even took the chance and went to the hair dressers to get my hair cut to just above my shoulders, using the rest of the money I had.

Each time I changed my bandage I washed the wound with a bottle of fresh water, wincing slightly. It slowly got sorer since the first night, especially if I touched it or washed it.

Gently I took the bandage off, grimacing when I got to the last few layers. There was a small stain over the wound, seeping through the bandage. Growling I wrapped it back up. I needed medical help and I couldn't go to a hospital.

I made a quick decision, not forgetting how the last one turned out. I'd probably be shot at again but that was better than rotting from the inside out. Jumping to my feet I stashed my supplies in a tree along with the handgun, the ammo was in the tree right beside it, and carefully pulled my hoodie on. Running off I prayed I hadn't made the wrong decision.

Eventually I got to the target house. While I was undercover I had done some snooping around and committed a few addresses to memory. Creeping around the house I checked it out. He was home, watching TV. One of the windows into the bathroom was open. It wouldn't have been big enough for an adult but I could squeeze through. Within a minute I was inside.

I didn't bother walking quieter than usual, he wouldn't hear me anyway. I walked down the hall, following the noise. Just as I went through the lounge door the sound stopped.

The door clicked loudly behind me. The tall Scottish jumped to his feet, turned and raised his hand gun in a fluid movement.

I held my hands up, "Wait! Wait."

"Gregorovich! How did you get in here?"

"I climbed through the bathroom window," I noticed his finger almost shaking on the trigger, as if he really wanted to shoot me, "Snake, wait. Just hear me out, please?"

"Why? Why shouldn't I just kill you now? Or at least hand you back to MI6."

"Just listen to my side of the story please?"

"Start talking," his hands held the gun steady, pointing at my chest.

"Um, can you shift the gun? I don't want to get shot accidentally."

"Start talking," he growled again.

"Okay, okay, I'm talking. My story isn't much different from Alex's. I didn't have much more choice than him. I was ten when my mum died. You already know Yassen's my father. I, I loved him, even though I soon found out what he did. I had only met him twice before then. I guess I was in a bad way; I was full of hatred. My mother had been taken from me by some bastard who didn't want a speeding ticket. He shot her three times before driving away and leaving her to bleed out in the dirt. I wanted revenge so I trained at Malagosto. Eventually I got my chance. The only thing that was paid, for my first assignment, was my revenge. My first mission was a personal one. So I shot him. He was lucky. It was one clean shot which is more than he did for my mother. And you already know once you're with Scorpia you don't get out unless you're dead. Right now, I want out. I'm sick of it. I'm on the run from everyone. I've been shot at. And as pathetic as it sounds, I want my father back. I don't even know where he is."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, relaxing slightly.

"Because I want you to understand. I almost want you to sort of trust me. I did what I was taught to do. I hardly had any choice. And, and I need help, medical help."

"What happened?"

I took my hoodie off slowly. He tensed but thankfully waited. Carefully I pulled my sleeve up onto my shoulder and began unwrapping the bandage, wincing as I did so. He immediately turned all medic. Walking over he shifted my hand, gently taking the bandage off. I clenched my teeth as he got to the last few layers and it stuck to the wound.

"This is infected."

"Yeah I got that much."

"You'll probably need antibiotics and proper stitching, not whatever this is. Come on, we'll go to the bathroom and I'll wash it."

I walked to the bathroom as he went to get clean bandages, antiseptic and cloths. Quietly I sat on the edge of the bath and waited for him. Eventually the door opened and Snake walked in with full arms. He knelt beside me, put everything on the floor and started taking the thread out before cleaning my arm with an antiseptic wipe. I tried to flinch away from the stinging but his hand gripped my arm, keeping me still. To block out the pain I asked the question that had been plaguing my mind.

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"W-with me. Are you going to give me back? Give me back to MI6 so they can throw me in a cell for the rest of my life?"

"I don't know."

I stiffened, not caring that he noticed. This was a bad decision. I should never have come here.

"I killed someone, after I escaped."

He tensed, his hand tightening around my arm. I hissed and shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the extra pain he was causing.

"Why?" he growled.

"I went for help. He tried to kill me so I killed him. Don't worry, it's good for you. There's one less Scorpia member in the world."

He seemed slightly shocked and loosened his grip, "Scorpia wants you dead?"

"No," I murmured sarcastically, "They just try to kill me for practice. Yow! That's cold."

"Toughen up."

"Are you going to stitch it?"

"Once I've got an anesthetic I will."

"You don't need to get any. Just stitch it now. If you're worried it'll hurt too much just give me some painkillers."

"Are you sure?"

I stuck my tongue out at him, "I thought you just told me to toughen up and anyway it's not going to hurt more than getting shot in the first place."

He sighed, "All right then. Wait here. I'll get needle and thread."

I nodded and watched silently as he left. This was going to hurt like hell, but it wasn't the first time. At least I knew what I was in for. It wasn't long before he came back with everything. He checked that I was sure one more time before beginning to close my wound properly. I clenched my teeth together but couldn't contain a slight hiss when the needle first pierced my skin. He worked quickly, trying to cause me the least amount of pain. Without me realizing he finished and tied the thread. He wrapped a fresh bandage around my arm, ignoring me wincing. We both froze when a noise rang through the house.

"Please tell me that's not your doorbell?"

"It's the phone. I'll be right back," he said, walking out.

I stood up, "Snake, please, please don't tell anyone I'm here. Please?"

He smiled softly for a moment before sighing, "I won't."

"Thanks." I breathed as I fell back onto the side of the bath.

So maybe it wasn't such a bad idea coming here, but I still didn't know if I could trust him. Five minutes later I got bored and started wandering around. It was quite a nice house. Photos dotted the hallway walls. I stopped to look at some. The first of him along with a beautiful woman and toddler, about two years old I'd say. Did Snake have a family? Yassen had one, not many people would believe it but I was proof so why was Snake having a family hard to believe? They both had dangerous jobs that took them away for long periods of time. I suppose it was entirely possible.

I looked at the next photo; it seemed even more unrealistic and hard to believe. It was K-Unit in someone's backyard with a beer in casual clothes.

"What are you doing?" Snake asked, finished with his phone call.

"I-I was just looking," I glanced to the first photo, "Your family?"

He glared at me and I quickly looked down, "Sorry."

My stomach grumbled loudly. Immediately my hands flew to it and my face went red, "Sorry."

He laughed, "When did you last eat?"

"Um, this morning, when I got up. You, you don't have to feed me. I've got food back, um, back at the park."

"If you're staying with me then I'll feed you. Pizza's probably better than what you've got at the park."

I grinned, "It probably is. Thanks, Snake, for doing this. Thank you."