Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

Twenty-three days.

It had been over three weeks since torturing Cub, putting him through things no one should have had to endure, his own personal hell that Blunt had devised for him.

Five-hundred fifty hours since the worst day of his life- and that was saying something.

Thirty-three thousand, one-hundred twenty minutes since being cut off from his team- well, that had already happened when he had been reassigned to MI6- but now, his teammates were scattered across the globe.

Ben ducked a few scattered bullets that had been too close for comfort.

Oh, yeah- one-million, nine-hundred-eighty-seven thousand, two-hundred seconds since being issued another mission (give or take).

It was a joint mission with the CIA- him posing with several other agents as a traditional family, in order to fish out a few home-grown terrorists.

However, their targets must have had done a black market deal, hence the AMP-69s; although the file hadn't mentioned them as owners of said-gun or being licensed.

Ben rolled his eyes at that- America and their gun laws.

It would only work if they went all in, or backed off completely.

Personally, at the moment, Fox was opting for less gun-wielding citizens.

Thankfully, it was three highly-trained agents (even if it was the CIA, Fox mused to himself), against two men, shall we say, lacking in firearms training (maybe the file had been right in not mentioning them having firearms training- they had little-to-no skills with handling guns. Still, having two half-crazed Americans, not to mention terrorists, shooting at them wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

It wasn't long until they had everything under control, the perpetrators arrested, and any potential bombs disarmed- they hadn't even needed their back-up SWAT team, and there were virtually no witnesses to be paid off.

All in all, a decent mission- except that nagging feeling that somewhere, most likely on the other side of the world, was a broken boy completing the dark missions- the suicide ones. And, to some extent, he wouldn't even be aware of it- nor of the man who controlled his every move.

O-o-O-o-O

Ben left the office as soon as possible- it was miraculous how boring debriefings were. And rather pointless- couldn't they just wait for his damned report?

Or, even better- have the debriefing and completely skip all the paperwork.

Apparently, the CIA's debriefings were just as long and tedious as MI6's were. Of course, it wasn't the first time he had worked with the CIA.

His lip curled in disgust. The CIA was where he had perfected the techniques of waterboarding.

The same form of torture he had used on Cub.

Fox closed his eyes, wanting to forget about that night completely- but he couldn't; he didn't deserve to forget.

Sighing once more, Ben flicked through all the emails and useless notifications that had built up during the mission- after recently retrieving it from when he had turned it in.

Ben frowned at one of the more older ones- from Wolf.

It was short and (not sweet) to the point.

Reading simply: Reply ASAP. Get on your contacts to find out if Cub is still alive and where he is. You'd better keep us updated and don't die on us.

Fox almost rolled his eyes at the bluntness- but it was to be expected, after all.

O-o-O-o-O

Nothing.

He'd called up anyone and everyone he knew, the hackers on the DarkNet, fellow agents from their respective agencies and even criminal informants.

Nothing.

Not.

One.

Damned.

Thing.

Fox nearly growled in frustration, but caught himself; regaining composure and remaining calm.

He'd narrowed it down to the Middle East- where Alex was currently assigned, but he had yet to get a more precise location and confirmation that he was still alive, and what condition he was in.

Drumming his fingers on the desk space, his mind raced, searching for one more person he could-

The best people to ask would be Mossad- it was their specialty, location-wise, but he didn't have any connections there, as he had yet to be assigned on a mission with them.

Did he know any ex-Mossad agents? Someone with big enough connections, so that they would still be able to have access to information?

What about-

Fox brightened, hand reaching to dial a somewhat familiar phone number.

His informant picked up after the second ring.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"David," he greeted. "It's me, Daniels."

There was a pause as the person on the other end contemplated. "Ah, yes, of course. MI6, no? Are you still working for them?"

Fox swallowed. "Yes, I am." Now for the harder part. "Listen, I need a favor."

"What is it?" came the blunt question.

"Can you find out if there's an Alex Rider somewhere in the Middle East? And if he's still alive?"

David hesitated. "I believe that is possible. I have several contacts that will be able to find him."

Ben sighed. "Thanks Ziva, you're the best."

O-o-O-o-O

It was less than a day later when he received a phone call from her.

"My contact found Rider," Ziva began, sounding somewhat reluctant.

"How is he?" Ben pressed urgently.

"Alive," Ziva answered shortly. "However, his assignment was in Syria, his objective the assassination of several high-government officials. Rider was picked up by MI6 hours ago- it wasn't too bad, but he'll need some recovery."

Ben swallowed. "What went wrong?"

"His third and final mark had been tipped off," the Israeli answered. "Rider was compromised, and captured."

He closed his eyes. "How long?"

"...They had him for three days."

Fox grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. "Why the hell did MI6 not pick him up sooner?" he ranted, the anger at his employers, not David.

"Perhaps they could not find him."

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. "They had a tracker planted in him."

In, not on.

Ziva was quiet for a moment; she knew his word usage was not a mistake- and knew of Rider's real age. "The three days marked his escape and retrieval, but he ended up completing his assignment- before MI6 showed up on the set."

"I think you mean 'scene,' Ziva," Ben remarked quietly.

Rage threatened to boil over, and Ben was finding it harder to resist punching something. He took a calming breath. "MI6," he said slowly, "didn't retrieve him... until he completed his mission." Which was an assassination. No, three assassinations.

"Yes," Ziva said tersely.

Ben ran a hand through his hair, weary. "Alright, thanks Ziva."

"Shalom, my friend."

"Shalom," he ended the phone call with the Hebrew blessing.

It was worse than he thought- Alex didn't have the ability to refuse orders, and was far too accepting of Blunt's in particular.

MI6 hadn't only turned him into a perfect spy... but an assassin, as well.

Once again, Been deeply regretted not being able to see the big picture- what Blunt was hoping to achieve, while K-Unit had still been with him.

It was all his fault.

O-o-O-o-O

"You did well," Mrs. Jones praised, the second debriefing over.

Fox inclined his head.

"You will have another two weeks before your next mission," Mrs. Jones informed him. "Is there anything else you need?"

Ben thought back to the brief reply he had sent to Wolf, right before he had got on the plane. "There is one thing," the agent said quietly. "Can I see Alex?"

Mrs. Jones smile was sickly sweet. "I am afraid not, he is currently on a mission."

Ben nodded courteously. "Of course. And how is he doing?" He restrained his anger- if MI6 was telling the truth, Alex had had less than four days recovering from three days of torture.

"He is faring very well," she lied smoothly. "If that is all, you are dismissed."

"Thank you." Ben got up from his chair, nothing more to be said or done- there was no arguing with MI6, especially not about information he shouldn't have known in the first place.

He left.

O-o-O-o-O

It should come as no surprise that your superiors cannot be trusted- there is no such thing in this business.

By the way, that was merely a reference to NCIS- this really isn't a crossover.