Can I just say, you guys rock?! Because you do. Seriously. I mean, 46 reviews?! 46 reviews. Even if you didn't review, you're still amazing- especially if you've stuck with me so far. It definitely takes some perseverance.

Oh, and if you want more of that master/dog relationship between Blunt/Alex, go to Apple in the Ocean's Price of a Collar, it's awesome!

I'm posting a new story on Sunday- ideas are still fuzzy for this one. It'll be completely different from this one, in a way- so yeah (trust me, this one is cute and funny... any guesses on what I'll be doing?). Individual review replies are on my profile. (Oh, and you know how I said K-Unit would come in next oneshot? I was wrong, they're in this one.)

Kaira Haze- If you're reading this, go to my profile for a more detailed reply.

This chapter is more of a filler than anything... sorry if that bothers you at all. More stuff will happen next oneshot.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

O-o-O-o-O

Alex leaned tiredly against the two men that were on either side of him.

One of the soldiers swore. "Come on kid, pull it together- we're almost to the plane, we'll have a medic tend to you until you can get to a hospital- and some food, too. Sounds good?"

The teen didn't have the energy to respond, but nodded slightly.

Another mission, done and complete.

"You will complete back-to-back missions until you are cured of this behavior."

The spy froze.

Back-to-back missions.

Back-to-back missions.

"Is this understood?"

Alex's face was carefully blank, none of the inward panic showing. "Yes, sir."

"Very good."

Back-to-back missions were horrible- there was no leave, no time to rest or have what little amount of time Blunt allowed him for recovering.

The retrieval teams would keep him alive on the plane home- the medics patching him up as best they could until he was sent to a hospital somewhere- but he never was. Alex would be escorted to the Bank by MI6 agents for a debriefing before being briefed on his next mission and-

Alex hated them.

It showed just how much power and control Blunt had over the spy- he alone knew the amount of pressure it would take for Alex to break.

And-and Blunt knew exactly when he would crush under the weight, and bolt- but he always got in trouble for it.

Blunt would still punish him for... for doing something that the Director of MI6 expected and wanted because Alex didn't want to be killed because of the stress that came from malnutrition, cracked ribs, or the dislocated fill-in-the-blank.

Blunt valued Alex as a weapon, yes, and in some twisted way, he knew how to keep him alive, even through the pain and exhaustion of back-to-back missions.

It had been three weeks since that day in the office, an entire month since his small taste of freedom... and when the microchip had been inserted.

This would be his fourth completed mission.

He hadn't made one, single escape attempt- he knew he wouldn't get far. And trying to run away wouldn't give him the leave he needed- only Blunt could choose to give him leave... and he hadn't, yet.

The soldiers guided him into the plane, before the boy collapsed, exhausted on the metallic floor.

The soldier looked at him, concerned. "You OK, kid?" He shook his head. "Never mind," then, he yelled: "We need a medic over here!"

Immediately, another soldier came forward, presumably the medic.

Alex pushed himself into a sitting position. "'m fine, jus' tired."

The medic frowned, noticing the slurred speech. "Hold on, kid- I think you have a concussion."

Alex's eyelids grew heavy, and he felt himself on the verge of falling asleep.

The medic gently shook him. "Kid, you can't fall asleep if you have a concussion- wait till the hospital, yeah?"

Bleary-eyed, Alex wanted to argue that he wasn't going to a hospital, and that the three hours' plane ride back to England would be the only chance he had to get his much-needed rest before Blunt sent him on another mission.

The soldier jerked him out of his musings.

"You sure took one helluva beating," the medic muttered, beginning the clean the many cuts that littered his body; it was also inevitable that at least a few his ribs were cracked, not to mention the bruises that were already forming.

The teen didn't answer, already drifting off, despite the soldier's protests.

He wasn't fully asleep- but his concentration and focus levels blurred out- his body was shutting down to only the basic functions; he had only been running off of four hours' of sleep and an adrenaline rush for the past three days.

He only remembered bits and pieces after that- someone feeding him, an agent escorting him off the plane and into a car, before arriving at a familiar bank...

O-o-O-o-O

Alex knocked twice before entering the dreary office.

He stood by the door, hands clasped behind him, shoulders back.

He didn't show any weakness- no fatigue from the lack of sleep or food, no sign of the injuries he had sustained.

The grey eyes examined the young agent. "Sit down, Alex."

He sat.

"The mission?"

"Only minor injuries- no casualties, their operation has been taken down, and the target has been apprehended, sir," the spy listed off mechanically. Unlike other agents, he neither confirmed nor denied that the mission was a success- his superior would determine if the assignment had been completed satisfactory; even if it was obviously accomplished correctly, Blunt could easily deem it otherwise.

"What of the Irma Meyer, the associate?" Alan Blunt asked harshly.

The spy tensed at his obvious displeasure. "Dead, sir."

A pause- a moment where the room became chilled by the grey man.

"That is rather unfortunate..." Blunt drawled on. "We were planning on interrogating her, but now that these plans are ruined..."

"I apologize, sir," the boy stated, shoving down the pesky emotions that threatened to boil over. "It won't happen again."

"No, it won't," Blunt stated smoothly.

Alex's heart raced. Everything was coming crashing down- he had tried really hard to please Blunt: he hadn't asked for leave or medical attention, he hadn't complained when Blunt sent him on four missions in a row- he hadn't even tried running away- not once!

And hell, he had done something wrong and Blunt was displeased, and-and he was-was going to-

Part of him realized that t wasn't his fault- that Blunt had originally put him in the situation in the first place.

But then he would remember- then he did remember.

He remembered all the pain that happened when he disobeyed Blunt- the exhaustion of completing missions, the knowledge that he would never be normal, the horrible memories of what he had seen, and what he had done

That-that no matter what he tried to undo his past mistakes... the man could change his status- not as a human being, but lower it to where he wasn't considered human; Blunt made him feel less than a human, and only the powerful man could change- change it back... but he wouldn't- not until he was pleased with him.

Again, anger flared, and again, he pushed it down, replacing it with as much calm as he could muster for the time being.

He needed to try- one more time... maybe Blunt would relent?

"Permission to take leave, sir?" The boy asked respectfully.

Blunt looked amused. "Denied."

Alex closed his eyes.

And the briefing for his next mission began.

O-o-O-o-O

She saw him before he noticed her- the first unusual thing that tipped her off.

Mrs. Jones had been in Tel Aviv for a month, smoothing over the shaky alliance MI6 had with Mossad. She had just gotten back, and was about to report back to Alan Blunt.

Alex was just coming out of the office; his mask crumbled as the he shut the door softly behind him.

The teen looked exhausted.

The face that had been alert and focused became drawn and weary.

His stance- one that was commonly seen among the agents, or even a soldier- changed to one that was slumped and defeated.

The eyes- ones that were clearly tired- closed.

The boy leaned against the wall, seemingly for support.

His frame- if possible- had grown thinner; the ragged clothing covering the bandages that were undoubtedly there.

But there were no agent-escorts leading him around in cuffs- no obvious signs that he had been beaten up by a group of agents set upon him by Blunt (it sickened her that he used those types of punishments for 'keeping him in his place,' especially... on a child).

No, Alex had recently come back from a mission- he had been obedient, to some extent.

"Alex,"

The reaction was immediate.

The teen's eyes shot open; his stance stiffened, arms at his sides. "I apologize, ma'am, I was just leaving."

Mrs. Jones felt completely unprepared at the teenager's odd personality change. "May I ask where you are going?"

Confusion briefly flickered over the boy's expression, before it was blanked out. "The Disguise Department, ma'am."

Realization hit her.

He was being sent on another mission- despite the fact that he obviously had just come back from one. Usually, Blunt would allow at least one nights' rest and a meal before the next assignment. What was different about this time? Was Alex still serving some sort of punishment for running away? It had been over been a month ago!

Mrs. Jones smiled softly, although she was inwardly dreading the conversation. "Still being punished for running away?"

The spy flinched.

It spoke volumes more than what words could give her.

It also occurred to her that Alex wasn't being very responsive- only the basics of his functions were working. The boy was only focussing on answering the questions themselves, not trying to figure out why she was answering them. Only his occupation as a spy would have allowed him to hide his emotions, making it seem like he was wide-awake and alert.

"You are dismissed, Alex."

The boy nodded once, respectfully, before leaving.

A peppermint was unwrapped.

O-o-O-o-O

"How was Tel Aviv?" Alan asked, as soon as the formal greetings were done.

"It went well," Mrs. Jones answered. "Our ties with Mossad are stronger after the incident was cleared up." She hesitated. "I saw Alex."

Mrs. Jones saw the first flicker of emotion from him- almost... was that... amusement?

"His personality has completely changed," she continued. "What happened to him this past month?" Or, a question that would have been too dangerous to ask: What did you do to him?

Blunt seemed to get the message. "I merely put him in his place- where he belongs," the dry words continued. "Since then, he has been obedient as ever- it is definitely a change for the better."

"He is exhausted," Mrs. Jones defended.

Alan raised an eyebrow, as if to say, So what?

Her lips tightened minutely. "He won't be able to complete another mission in his state."

There was a pause.

Mrs. Jones inwardly shuddered at the words that came next.

"Of course he won't."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex stumbled forward, one foot after another, on the sidewalk.

142a.

142b

143a.

Ah- there.

143b.

He was on the right street- he knew, but in his exhausted state, he needed to be careful.

It had been the first time he had quit a mission, halfway through, only because Blunt had lied to him about him being the only agent- in fact, there were at least three other MI6 agents assigned to the mission. Alex knew that he wasn't necessary- and that he desperately needed rest. He was so tired, ready to just collapse-

No, he scolded himself. He was almost there.

Just- a few more steps, and he was there.

O-o-O-o-O

A knock on the door.

Ben Daniels paused from bringing the box of beer upstairs.

It couldn't be the rest of K-Unit already- they were coming later tonight. could it?

He shrugged, dumping them cases of beer onto the counter. "Coming!" Fox called, heading over to answer the door.

Fox had barely enough time to open the door and cover his shock as a teenager shoved past him.

"Nice place you got."

The boy didn't seem to be paying any attention to the interior (except for the best weapons handy and the easiest escape routes- but Fox didn't know that), and rushed through the living area, hardly (seemingly) not giving it a second glance.

"What are you doing here?! Do you realize you almost got me fired the other day, because you ran away from us? We were afraid some terrorist group had found you, and '6 wasn't giving us any details... and well, we were worried about you."

"It wasn't terrorist group." Cub went over to the kitchen like he owned it ("...we own you, you are our property..."), proceeding to the fridge and beginning to rummage through it. "No matter how much it seems like it," he muttered.

"You got anything to eat around here?"

Fox was still angry, this kid had almost gotten him fired, not to mention worried the entire unit (even by itself, a difficult task)... and now he came into his house and started eating his food, that he had bought?

"You sure have a lot of explaining to do, Cub."

Cub didn't answer, intent on eating; he finished making his sandwich and crammed it into his mouth.

He looked starved, Fox realized, just noticing the three-inch gash on his arm, blood seeping through a roughly tied bandage.

"If terrorists didn't do that, who did?"

The boy downed an entire glass of water before answering him. "I ran into a couple of particularly nasty MI5 operatives. There was some communication problem between them and MI6—paperwork and all—in the mean time they were supposed to 'take care of me.' They didn't like me much after I—eh... put one of their men in the hospital." He shrugged. "Same old, same old." The spy was answering the questions on automatic; his instincts sluggishly responded to how much information was being divulged.

Fox frowned thoughtfully. "Can you at least tell me how you got my address?"

Alex smirked. "Hacked MI6's oh-so-secure database." He felt bad for lying to Fox, but it was necessary- there was no way he had time to explain how Mrs. Jones had given it to him, or that she had told him to quit the mission, halfway through, and get some rest. He looked down. "Besides, I don't really have anywhere else to go."

Ben smiled softly, deciding to ignore the lie about hacking MI6, at least for now. "You're always welcome here, kid." He did notice how tired Cub was. "And you should get some rest- take the guest bedroom, first door on the left."

Alex was relieved, but still hesitant. How long would it take for Blunt to realize he wasn't in MI5's custody, and send agents to pick him up? Suddenly, he refused to think about that- he just wanted to rest, now.

Rest and forget.

("Ignorance is not bliss, Alex. You know that.")

O-o-O-o-O

Alex awoke to the sounds of low voices in the other room.

He felt so much better- but how long had he been asleep?

Although he was still a bit tired, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle- at least he was functioning properly, now.

He opened to the door to find the sober expressions of K-Unit; of course Fox had called them up.

"How long was I asleep?" Cub demanded.

"Six hours," Fox answered, eyes searching him for answers.

Six hours? Cub sat down next to Snake. He was surprised '6 hadn't retrieved (he still hated that word) him in one. "Why'd you let me sleep that long?"

Eagle gave him a funny look. "Why wouldn't we?'

"Teenagers are supposed to get nine hours of sleep per night," Snake pointed out. "And from what Fox tells us, it seems like you hadn't slept in a week."

That would be about right. "One in five teenagers get that much sleep," the boy immediately countered, feeling defensive for some reason.

Wolf rolled his eyes. "Enough. Cub, get some food- there's pasta on the stove."

As if in reply, Alex felt his stomach growl.

In no time at all, he had eaten one bowl. He barely managed down another half-a-bowl before he felt like throwing up.

But it was worth it. It felt so good; it was amazing to have real food going down his throat, and eating until he felt like bursting. He drank water, too- and a lot of it. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't starve on his missions in the way people expected- that he had been tortured. No, food merely took the backseat when it came to dodging bullets. It wasn't that people outwardly starved him (in fact, throughout almost all the torture he had endured, he was almost always kept well-fed- they did want to keep him alive, anyway), but he didn't have time to care about his well-being.

By the time he was done, K-Unit were staring at him.

"There's plenty more where that came from, Cub," Fox said quietly. "You should eat more."

Cub's stomach protested at the thought of more food. "I'm fine- really," he assured them.

Wolf frowned, concerned. "Are you sure?"

Cub tugged a smile on. "'course I am- besides, I already had a sandwich. I'm stuffed, really."

Snake's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're full... with a sandwich and a bowl of soup?"

Alex thought quickly, trying to backtrack. "You act like I haven't eaten all day! Come on, I already had lunch earlier."

Fox sighed. "Will you stop with the lies already?"

Wolf nodded in agreement. "Yeah- even without pulling off your shirt, we can tell you've lost more weight since we saw you last."

Cub stiffened.

There was a moment of silence- but it didn't last long.

Snake's expression morphed into one of horror. "Oh, Cub. Your stomach... it's shrunk, hasn't it?"

"That's why you're so skinny," Eagle breathed.

Alex felt sick. Snake's explanation made too much sense- why he couldn't eat food in large amounts, or that no matter how much his body needed nourishment, he wouldn't be able to get the proper amount.

Cub dropped all pretenses. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean... it's a possibility."

Fox was surprised at his honesty. "Thanks for telling us, Cub."

The boy looked uncomfortable.

"Can I look at your arm?"

Cub was confused by Snake's question, but then remembered his run-in with the MI5 agents- and the dull throb of the abuse that they had given him. In some ways, he had been lucky to have been caught by MI5 instead of '6- the tensions between the two branches were enough for '5 to insist on all the protocol and paperwork... which meant more time to 'rest.' In others, like the laceration on his arm, not so much.

Alex grumbled, holding out his arm.

Snake carefully removed the bandages, examining the wound. "You're lucky it isn't infected- otherwise you would've needed stitches."

Eagle passed him the first aid, and the medic began to clean and re-bandage the wound.

"They have no right to treat you like this." Wolf's eyes burned with anger.

Cub said nothing, merely allowing Snake to continue his work.

"I'm finding it harder to believe you're the son of a politician," Fox fixed the teen with an intense gaze.

The boy muttered a quick thank-you when Snake was done, doing a good job of ignoring the other soldiers.

Finally: "I"m not allowed to tell you anything," he said quietly. I'll get in trouble. He felt sick- but it wasn't worth the risk.

Not now- especially since Blunt was mad at him.

Wolf studied the kid. He looked so... broken. He wasn't acting like some spoiled rich kid... he wasn't even acting like a normal teenager. But it was obvious he wasn't a normal teenager.

"It's Ok, Cub. We know that," Eagle said softly.

The boy looked so... relieved. But why? He wasn't a stickler for the rules- there had to be another reason.

Cub hunched over. "They'll be here soon."

Wolf's brow furrowed. "MI6? How the hell do they know where you are?"

"It's not healthy for you," Snake interjected. "You're not getting enough rest- or food, with them."

Cub's eyes glazed over, fingers brushing his shoulder, almost... reassuringly? But he didn't look relieved- he looked trapped- like an animal.

Fox noticed the subtle gesture.

Without warning, he was out of his chair, and in front of the boy. Before Cub had a chance to respond (which was rare of itself- him being caught so unaware), the soldier had yanked the sleeve down- exposing a thin, X-shaped scar on the back of his right shoulder.

The teen snarled, pulling back sharply.

Fox decided to ignore the increasing amount of evidence from previous injuries- it had been a little over a month ago! And if that much had happened in one month... what about before the skin graft? It had been two years... two years, since basic training. He closed his eyes momentarily, to calm the rage that boiled in his veins. "What is it, Cub? And who gave it to you?"

Cub tensed. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it does," Wolf growled.

Snake and Eagle looked expectantly at him.

"They'll be here soon."

Fox thought back a few moments back- he had sounded so sure of himself. And then, the first question that he had asked after waking up.

"How long was I asleep?" A look of surprise at the answer. "Why'd you let me sleep that long?"

He didn't ask why K-Unit was there there, nor had he been concerned with their presence at all- or that he had been barely functioning when he had come to his house.

"How do they know you'd be here?" Fox demanded. "Why are you so sure?"

The teen's face closed off.

It dawned on him.

Fox swallowed; it was sick, it was inhumane, and there was no way-

"Are they tracking you?"

Cub closed his eyes, defeated.

It was all the answer he needed.

"Fox, tell us," Eagle said urgently. "What are you talking about?"

The soldier-turned-spy ignored him, intention focused on their unofficial member. "When did they insert the chip?"

Cub's eyes were foggy, haunted. "A month ago- when they caught me."

K-Unit's expressions turned to horror and disgust.

He had run- hell, he had run away from MI6... and they had given him that chip. They had put a microchip under the skin of a teenager, undoubtedly against his will.

Those were used for dogs, not boys... not Cub. And-

Cub froze at the harsh knock of a door.

There was a moment of silence, before-

"MI6," he whispered. "They're here."

O-o-O-o-O

Sometimes the risk is worth taking. You must choose wisely when making reckless decision.

O-o-O-o-O

So... yeah. What are your theories on what will happen next?