You guys are awesome, thanks so much for sticking to this story! Just knowing that someone is out there, reading it, is super encouraging.

Guest- I sincerely thank you. I'm still struggling to find that balance between a happy ending and a depressing one. The end is nigh, that's all I can say for right now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

O-o-O-o-O

"There's been a problem with Agent Rider's operation," Mrs. Jones informed her superior as she unwrapped another peppermint.

Alan Blunt looked up sharply. "I assume he has been compromised...?"

The woman nodded. "That's not all. We've lost his tracking signal."

Blunt tapped his desk thoughtfully. "That's very interesting. The only scanner that can detect the microchip is one Smithers developed- before he retired, of course- Rider recently received a skin graft, so the scar shouldn't be visible." He glanced at his deputy. "Find out how the scanner's designs were leaked. Also, the Nakket are more likely already gone. Rider won't be killed, he is too useful to them. The only thing we can do is wait for him to make his move."

Mrs. Jones nodded. "Of course, sir."

O-o-O-o-O

"You've changed."

Alex blinked, aware that the drug was gradually wearing off. They'd drugged him after knocking him unconscious- smart.

It was a brightly lit room- windowless, bare except for the cot he was in, and the man sitting across him in a chair.

The boy only had to glance once at the restraints to know he wouldn't be able to get out of them without outside help.

Alex studied the man closely, taking in the lean form. The accent he spoke with was undetectable- only the fact that English Wasn't his first language. He looked familiar- had they met before?- no, that was impossible; he would have remembered.

"You don't recognize me," the man stated sharply. "Do you not remember who I am?"

The spy knew for certain that he had been drugged when he felt compelled to answer- and that never happened. It wasn't strong enough to be a truth serum, though. "No, I don't know you."

The man showed no emotion as he gazed at the boy carefully. "Very well, we shall have to be re-acquainted. My name is Yassen Gregorovich."

The teen froze as a dozen images flashed briefly- along with those dreaded emotions that accompanied them.

He didn't know how long it was, but he was suddenly aware that his breathing was haggard.

"Allow me to explain what has happened," Yassen offered, waiting for no reply as he continued. "My name triggered either a flashback or an assortment of memories. There was more than that, correct? It was something you were unfamiliar with- emotions." His voice became bitter. "Blunt stripped you of your emotions, memory, and even your free will. I promised someone that I would get almost everything back. I'm not here to hurt you, but the process won't be painless." his voice hinted a warning. "However, I apologize in advance for the pain- out of anyone in this world, you don't deserve it."

O-o-O-o-O

It was dark- completely black.

And he was alone.

Completely, and utterly alone.

One of the worst things, was that none of his senses were working- or, picking up anything. His mind yearned for something to analyze, but there was absolutely nothing.

Without his senses, without him being able to evaluate anything, the only thing left was something that he had tried to keep at bay- his emotions.

They were slow at first, yet they still shocked him when they did come.

Loneliness.

Fear.

Doubt.

Anxiety.

Dread.

Panic.

Worry.

The yearn to be protected once more.

Slowly, bits and pieces of memory that accompanied those emotions broke free of the fog.

He understood now why he'd never been able to trust people, or how and why Blunt controlled him the way he had.

He remembered very little, but it was enough to get by- for now.

The spy began to question his sanity, after being alone in this dark world for... how many years?

It had to have been a minimum of a few decades.

Was he even still alive?

Was this an afterworld- his own personal hell?

But he had already been to hell- had lived it.

Maybe he was losing his sanity- perhaps he had never had it in the first place?

What was the last thing that had happened before entering this darkness?

Hmm... that was curious. He didn't remember.

He hated only having his emotions to keep him company.

He wondered how long it would go on.

Would it ever end?

O-o-O-o-O

Alex gasped as the isolation tank opened; light streamed in, so many noises and he could feel the liquid surrounding him, the hardness of the case around him, could suddenly smell and hear and see and feel and it was completely and utterly overwhelming.

He squinted in the sudden light and the sudden everything; he could feel his body going into shock.

"Careful, we need to get him to medical."

"He's dangerous like this- unpredictable. He'll lash out at anything that touches him- hell, if anyone that gets near him."

"Nah, he's helpless- his senses are all hyperactive; they're overwhelming him."

"He needs to slowly adjust- get him to a dark and quiet room."

"Hold on, kid, we got you."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex was heavily drugged the next few days, as his sense slowly adjusted. He knew he would be hyper-sensitive for a while before he went back to normal.

His room was dimly lit, and he was restrained to a familiar cot.

For the first three days, the nurse that came to refill his IV was his only visitor.

Until Yassen came on the fourth day.

"How long?" Alex asked hoarsely.

"You were in the isolation tank for a week," Yassen answered simply.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I remember more, now," Alex said quietly. "While I was in there, I began to develop emotions."

Yassen nodded. "I thought as much." He paused. "I know you're not a mechanical robot anymore, however... do you still have an obligation to serve Blunt?"

Ale swallowed, looking down. "No."

Yassen sighed, relieved. "That's good to hear."

"Why don't you hate me?" Alex - sounded genuinely curious. "I must have killed over a third of the base."

The assassin's lips twitched. "Your death count was under twenty- you didn't even kill everyone you came across, only - the ones you met in the main building. A few of the guards on the outside, and in the control tower... you didn't kill anyone else."

Alex frowned. "And the barracks? I didn't have time to confirm the kills immediately, but MI6 assured me the gas should have worked."

Yassen chuckled. "If you had done an inside - sweep surveillance scope of the barracks, you would have known that I have my men sleep with specialized gas masks- ones that withstand almost all lethal gases."

The teen nodded. "Of course."

The older man seemed hesitant. "Does a 'K-Unit' mean anything significant to you?"

The spy immediately put up a block against the enclave of memory; the only thing that came through was a wave of pain- the -memory- of betrayal, broken trust. "No." He didn't remember K-Unit... nor did he want to."

"I see." Yassen looked thoughtful once more. "Your IV was changed via remote during the isolation tank, but it will be another week until you recover fully, and more time to brush up your training later. " He glanced at the tired boy. "Please be patient and recover. I'll be sure to send you some books later so you won't be too bored."

The assassin was about to leave, but some part of him told him to stay.

Alex bit his lip, facial features sheepish- almost embarrassed?- but didn't say anything.

"Yes?"

The teen hesitated. "Can you... can you stay?"

His gaze softened. "Of course."

The boy closed his eyes, relived. "Thank you," he said in a small voice.

O-o-O-o-O

Later, after Alex was asleep, Yassen and the other leaders of Nakket were discussing the recent turn of events.

"Are there any signs that the drug is progressing to the next stage?"

Yassen smiled grimly. "Yes, everything is still working in our favor. Alex Rider is ours."

O-o-O-o-O

Fox mentally did a fist-bump when he saw he had gotten a message from his contact on the DarkNet- the only thing MI6 couldn't monitor.

Everything is going to plan. We'll send for you soon.

O-o-O-o-O

You manipulate people, but you must not forget that people will also do it in return.

O-o-O-o-O

Oh, and with the isolation tank thing- they do exist. Basically, they strip you of your senses. I would think after a week, Alex would have been extremely sensitive afterwards. He didn't remember being put into it because he was drugged (it would have been different if he had known what was coming and thus prepared for it). I know it's weird going from Yassen-bad, Yassen-good, and then back to Yassen being possibly evil again. I know I'll have mixed responses to bringing him back from the dead, but honestly, it wouldn't have been hard to fake his own death. Just know that this plot couldn't have worked without him.