Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Deeper and deeper.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Down into the dark.

Into blackness.

Into nothing.

Deeper.

And deeper.

And deeper.

And deeper.

Blackness closing in.

The pinprick of light getting smaller.

And smaller.

And smaller.

Fading.

Fading away.

Until there is only darkness.

Darkness and the feeling of falling.

With no idea how far he had fallen or how far he had left to fall.

Or what would be waiting at the bottom.

If there was a bottom.

Down.

And deeper.

He fell.

Then the falling sensation stopped.

It was like he was floating.

Untethered.

But that feeling didn't last long.

Now he was shooting upwards.

The darkness still surrounded him but he was sure that he was rising.

A pinprick of light confirmed it.

It was tiny.

So tiny.

But getting closer.

And closer.

And closer.

With every passing second, closer.

The light breaking through the darkness.

It was getting lighter.

And lighter.

And lighter.

Until all he could see was light.

And then…

The room was spinning. The lights on the ceilings blurred in and out of focus. And he seemed to have double or triple or even quadruple vision. It was hard to work out.

"Alex." The voice echoed and distorted and he had to really concentrate to understand. Someone was saying his name. It was hard enough for his mind to come to that conclusion, let alone work out who was behind it. Someone who knew his name but that was not a short list.

No words of his own came, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe they just came out as random noises. Maybe his mouth just opened and closed like a voiceless ventriloquist dummy. Maybe he wasn't doing anything at all. He didn't know.

Then he was sitting up. It was only when he changed position that he realised that he had been laying down before. The room was still spinning. He thought he was going to be sick. Where was he? With his vision distorted as it was, he could make out nothing useful to help answer that question.

There was a bottle at his lips. His mouth was fuzzy and the cold liquid (water if he had to guess) was very calming as he swallowed. Wait? How was he drinking? As far as he could tell, his hands were resting on the… bed? Whatever he was sitting on, anyway. The water seemed to have helped because his mind became a little (almost infinitesimally) clearer. At least he was able to reason that in order to have been lying down before, he had to have been on a bed. The room had stopped spinning too, although he thought he was still seeing everything in at least triplicate.

There was someone behind him. He saw an arm taking the bottle of water away. He wanted to protest, but the words still wouldn't come. What was going on? Alex wracked his brain, trying to remember what had led to his being in this situation. Had he been on a mission? Had he had some sort of head injury? Was he recovering from a pre-arranged surgery? He had no idea. Although he was fairly certain that he was in a hospital, judging by the few details of the room that his brain had been able to process.

The arm was there again. He was being helped into a jacket. Right arm first. Then the left. That was when he realised that something was wrong. His arms had been crossed in front of his chest? And he couldn't move them. He knew that he didn't have his usual strength but he should still be able to move his arms, at least a little, shouldn't he?

"We are leaving."

Alex suddenly found that he was on his feet. His legs did not feel like his own as he was pushed forwards. Despite the fact that he could still not see clearly, Alex caught sight of himself in a mirror as they passed out of the room. It took longer than he would have liked to process what he had seen. And he was so focused on working out that image that he didn't take in any of the corridors or passageways that he was forced down.

He was in a straight jacket! Dread came with understanding. Was he being kidnapped in broad daylight? The more they walked, the more Alex's mind cleared. He had to be in a hospital. People wearing scrubs were usually found in a hospital, weren't they? He tried to call out, to ask for help, but his mouth still refused to obey the orders sent by his brain. If any sounds came out at all, they were merely grunts and groans.

At least his vision was a little clearer now, even if his mind and body were still slow. There was a red flashing light near the top of the wall. He was sure that it was important but he couldn't make the connection… oh, of course! It must be an alarm of some sort. Had someone realised that he was missing? Were people, even now, going to be on the lookout for him? His kidnapper would have a hard time smuggling him past security if they knew who they were looking for. Although, he realised with trepidation that the alarm going off did not seem to have deterred his kidnapper from the path that they had chosen.

"No," he mumbled, surprised to hear that he was regaining control over his voice. "Help!" he shouted, although this time the word did not come out as clearly. He tried to struggle, to dig his heels in and cause a scene, but he didn't have the strength. He was being propelled along by whoever was leading him forward and they did not seem to find his struggles effective in any way. He couldn't even turn around to see who was kidnapping him. That, at least, would have given him an indication of precisely how much trouble he was in. But it was no use.

They had been walking for ages. Alex's legs, he felt sure, would have been aching terribly if he had been able to feel his body properly. The corridors seemed quieter now. That was not good. The fewer people who saw them would mean fewer witnesses to help MI6 work out where he had been taken, and by whom. Although, didn't hospitals have cameras? Alex looked around him. Yes! That round black blob on the ceiling looked like a CCTV camera. He thought he could see a blinking red light signalling that the images were being relayed… somewhere, presumably a security office.

He decided to try his voice again. "Help!" he cried out. That was a lot clearer than it had been before. But now there was nobody around to hear his pleas. Hospitals weren't usually this quiet, were they? From what he remembered, they were a hive of activity with doctors and nurses travelling to visit their patients and porters moving people from one place to another. So where was everyone? A diversion of some sort must have been created, pulling anyone who might have been able to help away to a different area of the hospital. Alex felt his hopes of rescue dwindling by the second.

Oh no! Alex felt the despair quickly replaced by terror again. They were at an exit. But a security guard was standing there and he didn't look like he was about to let anyone out. That at least gave him a glimmer of hope. He couldn't be kidnapped if they weren't allowed to leave! Although, what extremes would his kidnapper go to? They had clearly drugged Alex so that he would be unable to resist (Alex found himself thinking that drugs and a straight jacket was overkill). His mind preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn't realise that they had reached the security guard until he felt himself pulled to a stop.

"I'm sorry, I can't allow anyone out whilst we're in lockdown."

Alex felt the glimmer of hope burst into a roaring fire.

"I understand. However these patients need transferring to a secure psychiatric facility."

"No, please, I'm being kidnapped!" Alex protested, pleased to find that his voice was once again his own, but even as he spoke he realised the genius of his kidnappers plan. By making him look like a psychiatric patient, the security guard would likely not believe a word that he said. The realisation came like a giant bucket of water to put out his fire. Wait… his kidnapper had said 'these patients'. Plural. Alex looked around. There was someone else, also in a straight jacket, standing to his left. Was this a double kidnapping?

"I'm the Prime Minister!" the person to his left announced.

"No! Please! I really am being kidnapped! Help me! Please!" Alex was desperate. But he could see in the guards eyes that his pleas were only serving to further his kidnappers story.

"They are both extremely dangerous patients. The 'Prime Minister' just bit one of the doctors upstairs," the faceless voice from behind explained, sounding all the world like a rational doctor who dealt with delusional patients day in, day out. "He's known for being a biter," he added conspiratorially.

"Oh, of course," the security guard spluttered, his face significantly paler than it had been when they first arrived. He held the door open at arms length, wanting to keep as far out of harm's way as it was possible to.

"No please! You have to help me! I'm being kidnapped," Alex cried as he was forced through the open door.

It seemed that Alex's voice had returned too late to save him. The door closed behind them and Alex felt the cool morning air close in. His breath fogged in front of his eyes as he breathed rapidly, trying to find a way of escape. But he was still mostly dependent on the person behind him for movement. He glanced to his left again, trying to see if he knew his kidnap companion. Alex was shocked to see that this man was being allowed to walk freely. And… no… it couldn't be! He was taking off his straight jacket? He was part of it. They were working together to make Alex's cries for help seem more delusional! Who would have come up with something like this? Desmond McCain had had him smuggled through Heathrow Airport under the influence of a drug that made him look disabled… but both McCain and Bennett were dead, so they couldn't be behind this. His mind became shrouded in fog again before he could think any more and any detective work became impossible.

They had arrived at a car. Alex felt himself being leant against the back of the car, the metal supporting his body so that he would remain standing upright. The door opened. He was sitting inside. How had that happened? A second ago, he had been standing outside the car and now he was sitting on the back seat with the seatbelt running across his chest.

"We'll see you there," he heard his kidnapper say as the driver's door opened. The shock when Alex saw the man's face in the mirror stunned him into keeping his silence. Yassen Gregorovich. All he knew of this man was that he was a contract killer. He had killed Ian Rider. Words spoken to him once long ago floated briefly across his mind. 'If Yassen finds out you're working for us, he'll kill you too.' Panic rose within him unbidden, although he was determined not to give the assassin the satisfaction of seeing his terror. He would not let him win, even if it was a tiny victory compared with what was likely in store for him in the imminent future. The man turned around in his seat to examine him but Alex turned away.

"Alex…" but with Alex's mind full of fog as it was, he found it surprisingly easy to drown out the threats that he had no doubt were being directed at him.

The assassin seemed to tire of the lack of response that he was getting because he turned around his seat. Alex felt the rumble as the car engine was turned on - it travelled all the way through his body. This car must be powerful, he reflected dully; the vibrations from the engine in Jack's car didn't run through his body like this. If anyone did realise that something was wrong with one of the 'patients' who had been allowed out of the hospital and chased after them, this car would be able to outrun them easily.

Who was Yassen working for? Or, potentially worse, was he working of his own volition, getting his own back for something that Alex, or his father, or Ian had done in the past? Alex didn't have the mental energy to ponder that question too deeply, although he felt the anxiety that it invoked gnawing away inside him as they drove away.

He was too wrapped up in his thoughts to realise that they had arrived at their destination until his door was opened. Yassen lent across and unbuckled his seatbelt. Alex remembered the 'Prime Minister' had been a 'biting' patient so he decided to cause Yassen pain. This was probably the most vulnerable position that Alex would ever find him in! Ugh his brain was too slow! By the time he had worked those thoughts through, Yassen had straightened up again and Alex felt himself being pulled out of the car. How far had they travelled? Alex had no idea. Even if by some miracle he escaped, he had no idea where they were or where he would have to go to get help.

Alex was propelled forwards once more and he heard the crunching sound of gravel beneath their feet as they walked. He managed to look around. The car had parked on a hedge-lined driveway in front of a house. It was the only car. Alex knew that the observation was significant. Why? Of course! Yassen had said 'we'll see you there' to his accomplice - the 'Prime Minister' Alex thought bitterly - who had to be coming in a separate vehicle. If there was only one car on the drive, they hadn't arrived yet. That made the odds of Alex being able to escape slightly better… although it was him (still under the influence of some sort of drug and bound in a straight jacket) against Yassen (in full control of his mental and physical faculties and with much more experience than Alex). The odds were not good. But they were better now than they would be soon, when the other man arrived. Was it too much to hope that Yassen would underestimate him enough to allow him to escape? Maybe. But hope he would, all the same.

Alex tried to call for help again, but Yassen had seen the move and clamped a hand over Alex's mouth before he could say anything. He couldn't yell for help. Thanks to the thick hedges, nobody would have seen him getting out of the car. Nobody would know that he was there. Alex was propelled up the front steps of the house and as the door shut behind him, he felt sure that this would be the last place he ever saw.