A/N: I'd like to say I'm sorry for any mistakes, but frankly, as I'm giving you guys two chapters in one night and the amount of effort that went into this one . . . well, I just don't give a damn. That's now, though, tomorrow when I find some I'm certain I'll be horrified with myself. I always am :(
Wolf paced back and forth across his hallway, glancing at the ill-placed stairs every time he passed them, waiting for the door to open. He was worried – honestly. He was pissed. What the hell was Cub doing? A mad man was after him, he was placed with an elite soldier for protection and he goofed around like this? He should have been home hours ago! He was messing around, that was all; there was no need to be afraid something had happened. No need at all.
So why was it so hard to convince himself of that?
Ducking into the kitchen to look at the wall clock for the hundredth time since he returned to his flat and found it empty, he cursed his own stupidity as well. He should've asked for the kid's mobile number . . .
XXXXX
Alex leant against the alley wall, trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible. The good news was that the one he had kicked in the face had evidently hit his head quite hard, as Alex had not seen him since the chase started. The bad news was he still had three others on his tail. They had chased him all round London for the better part three hours; it was almost eight o'clock at night and the sky was growing increasingly darker. As it did, Alex's fears grew stronger; he seriously doubted his ability to even find Wolf's flat in the dark, let alone lose his three would-be kidnappers. He had to do it while he still had light to work with and fast.
Pushing off from the wall, he began to stalk up the alley to the wire fence at the end, knowing it was dangerous to stay in one place for too long.
"Gotcha!" a gritty voice snarled in his ear as huge arms encircled him from behind and pinned his arms down.
Wasting no time, Alex shoved his forearms out straight to get the best leverage before slamming his right elbow down, hard, into his captor soft gut. The man crumpled as all the wind rushed out of his mouth, blowing his stale, rancid breath all over Alex's face as he turned his head slightly to look. As the man fell, he did not remove his arms, but he did accidentally loosen them, giving Alex just enough room to move so he was able to slam his elbow into the man again, this time aiming upward to his chin, forcing his head back and in doing so making his black out as he brain hit the back of his skull from the force of the blow.
Alex flung himself out of the limp embrace, tripping over the unconscious man's legs to go sprawling in the dirt. A male voice swore behind him and Alex rolled over to the side so he was on his back just in time to see a steel crowbar slam into the ground exactly where his head had been only moments before. As the enemy made to swing a second time, Alex flipped himself backwards to his to stand and face his opponent, his eyes darting around the alley, trying to spot something he could use as a weapon.
Suddenly, the man lashed forwards with the sharp end of his weapon. Alex jerked back just in time to avoid have his skull skewered, turning to the side as he did so the steel sliced across his skin instead of going through, leaving a non-fatal but painful laceration that bled profusely for it's size, dripping blood down his face. Backtracking down the alley furiously, Alex swiped a hand over the right side of his face, stopping the blood from dripping into his eyes and impairing his vision. The last man may have been an overconfident pushover, but this one was more dangerous; not particularly skilled, but he more than made up for it in speed; Alex was going to have to be clever and quick to win this one.
As his eyes darted around the alley walls, he spotted a huge dumpster leaning on the far wall behind his attacker. Laying a few feet behind him was a discarded stick of metal, rusted almost completely through so it was indistinguishable as to what it may have been previously. A plan formed in Alex's mind; it was risky, but what other choice did he have?
He continued to walk backwards, inching closer to the metal bar with every step. When he was close enough he lunged for it; his attacker ran a few steps forward before stopping short as Alex stood up again, the rusty bar clutched to his chest. Then the man began to laugh; even he could see what a pitiful weapon it was, it was so red with rust that one blow would probably snap it in two. As he was so caught up in his mirth, he failed to notice Alex inching closer until the boy had already thrown himself at the man. Startled, the thug lifted up his crowbar to chest height – just as Alex changed courses and dived through his open legs, swinging the old metal rod as he did to knock the man's left knee out and send him flying to the alley floor as he skidded free.
Jumping to his feet, he ran to the dumpster, dropped the disintegrating metal stick to the ground, planted both hands on the dumpster lid and hauled himself onto of it. With barely a breath in between, he jumped up and found a hand-hold in the brick wall, dust from the old dried cement raining down on his head as he hauled himself up the few extra inches he needed to the next handhold and then, finally, to the guttering that ran round the edge of the building. The old broken-down pipe gave way under his weight, but not until after he was able to grip the roof. With an almighty heave, he was up on the roof.
Alex ran across the roof, nearly falling multiple times as the wrecked tiles slipped from under his feet. As he reached the edge of the roof, separate from its neighbour by a gaping hole, a loud crash caught his attention. Turning his head, he saw that one of his two remaining pursuers had followed him onto the roof and was gaining on him, fast.
Turning back quickly, Alex leapt over the gap and kept running, hopping over every obstacle and keeping his speed at full-pelt until, at last, there were no more roofs. Alex paused, no idea what to do now. That was quickly solved when a loud bang split the air and the tile by his left foot exploded as the bullet made contact.
'Shit, that one's got a gun!' He briefly wondered why the others had not been equipped the same way before coming to the conclusion that whilst he was running for his life, it really didn't matter. With no other options before him, Alex took a deep breath and leapt off the room, seizing the gutter pipe as he went down; like the other one, it gave under his weight, but it slowed him down enough that when it snapped and he dropped, he only sprained his ankle instead of breaking it.
Hissing between his clenched teeth, he got unsteadily to his feet and sprinted, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg with every step. The sky had gotten darker since he'd last checked and it was harder to see where he was going but he kept running, the crack of a second bullet aimed at his back but miraculously missing by a few centimetres all the incentive he needed.
Lights blared up ahead, momentarily blinding him. When the white spots vanished from his vision, he realised he was looking at a road. Another idea came to mind and he began to slow down gradually from a desperate sprint to a light jog, from the distance, it appeared to his attackers that he was tiring, or else that he was finally giving into the pain his ankle was causing him.
Alex looked over his shoulder as he forced himself to slowly jog towards the road. The distance between him and the two men, the one from the alley having now joined the one from the roof, grew smaller and smaller as they ran at full speed after him. With relief, Alex saw that the one from the roof was returning his gun to his hidden holster; he couldn't risk alerting civilians to the attack with gunshots and anyway, why waste bullets when they were certain to catch him?
When they were now more than five paces behind him, Alex put on a sudden burst of speed, launching himself into the road. The one from the alley, just behind the one from the roof, stopped immediately. The one from the roof, however, enraged at the thought of the boy tricking him, continued to run. As such, he was directly in the path of the oncoming car that had missed Alex's back leg by a mere fraction. The driver had slammed on the breaks as soon as he saw Alex, but the car had been so close to the spot where they crossed the road and he was just at the speed limit of sixty miles per hour; it was impossible to stop. The front crashed into the man and he flew into the window shield, blood and glass flying in every direction, the breaks squeal deafening.
As soon as Alex looked back, he knew the man was dead. Over on the other side of the road, the fourth and final would-be kidnapper looked across the divide from Alex, to his dead comrade, to Alex again; then he turned and ran.
Alex sighed, immensely relieved that the ordeal was over for tonight. Now he just had to figure out where the hell he was and find his way back to Wolf's flat.
XXXXX
The clatter of the keys in the lock and the door swinging open jolted Wolf awake from the couch where he had apparently fallen asleep, waiting up for the kid. Glancing down at his wristwatch, he swore aloud when he saw that it was ten o'clock at night. Cursing angrily, he stormed into the hallway as Alex walked up the stairs.
"Oi! What the hell do you think you're playing at? Do you have any idea what the ti – !" Wolf stopped short as Alex reached the top of the stairs. His shirt was ripped, one leave hanging on by a thread and not much else, his blonde hair was streak brown with dirt, his face was drenched in sweat and blood dripped down the right side of his face from a cut just hidden by the hair hanging over his forehead.
Alex stared at him frankly as Wolf simply gaped, mouth opening and closing, unable to find his voice, "Sorry I'm late."
"Who cares about you being late? What the hell happened to you?" Wolf yelled. Taking action, he reached over and grabbed Alex's right wrist, jumping in shock as Alex hissed in pain and tried to wrench his arm out of Wolf's strong grip. Turning the limb in his hand over to get a closer look, Wolf saw that the skin was red and swollen, the skin beginning to bruise. It looked like someone had grabbed the kid much like he was now.
Releasing the kid's wrist, he slip his hand down to grasp Alex's own and led him into the kitchen. Gesturing for the teenager to hop onto the counter, which he did, he dug around in his freezer for a few moments before pulling out a several sizeable bags of ice. Taking Alex's arm more gently than before, he wrapped the first ice pack around it.
"That should help with the swelling," he grunted, trying to seem in control so the kid wouldn't freak out. Although, he reminded himself, from how calm the kid seemed, and what he'd read in his file, he didn't really think he was going to.
Turning his mind back to the task at hand, he asked, "Where else does it hurt?"
Alex raised one eyebrow in a sharp look at his new guardian. Wolf rolled his eyes at himself and muttered, "Right, stupid question." From the state the boy was in, everything was likely to be hurting.
Trying again, he lifted up the two remaining ice bags and said, "I've only got two more; which parts hurt the most?"
Alex lowered his eyebrow again, which Wolf took to be a good sign. He paused for a moment, then said, "My head."
Nodding, Wolf put down the packs and gently brushed the matted blonde hair off of the boy's face to take a look at the cut. At the initial contact he recoiled, but soon got control of himself and sat still. The blood had clotted already, so Wolf went to the cupboard under the sink and brought out a tea towel; after holding it under running water for a few second, he gently dabbed at his wards face, wiping the blood away and trying to ignore the strange look he boy was giving him.
When all the blood was gone, Wolf dropped the tea towel and picked up the ice pack again, holding it against the side of Alex's forehead to try and relieve some of the pain. After the kid's muttered, "Thank you," they stood silently.
'I knew I should have done something,' Wolf growled to himself. He was supposed to be taking care of the kid and look what happened to him –
Wolf suddenly realised that he didn't actually know what happened. Clearing his throat, he said, "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"
Alex glanced up at the elder man, then lowered his eyes and muttered, "Sorry." Taking a breath, he continued, "I was walking back with my friend James but we split up and a few minutes later I ran into a man. He knew who I was and he said I had to come with him to meet a "friend" of mine. I said no and he grabbed my arm so I got him off and he shouted for his friends. I kicked him in the head to make him stat down and then I ran while three of them chased me."
He stopped as he saw the look on Wolf's face; he was furious, he dark grey eyes darker than ever. Gulping slightly, he said, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't take on all three at once."
"What?" Wolf said gruffly, looking stunned at what the teenager had just said.
"I had to get them away from each other so I could fight one on one, it was the only chance I had," Alex continued, lowering his eyes so Wolf wouldn't see the fear in them as he recalled his encounter.
"Hey, kid, don't apologise for fighting back," Wolf said, as enlightenment stuck. "I'm not angry at you, I'm angry that they attacked you in the first place." He frowned as a thought occurred to him, "Why didn't you come back here? I could've helped you."
"I didn't want them to see where we were living," Alex said slightly defensively, "What if one of them got away? Then we would've been in even more danger."
Wolf grunted, acknowledging the boy's point, though he hated the thought of him facing four full-grown men by himself. Alarm sparked through him as something vitally important occurred to him, "Where are they? The men who attacked you."
"Two of them are dead, one ran away and I'm not sure about the other guy, but he was pretty badly hurt and in no condition to come after me."
A stab of fear wormed its way through Alex's gut as he saw Wolf staring at him, face completely blank. "What?" he demanded, though his voice shook slightly.
A slight smirk curled the corner of Wolf's lips. Reaching out, he ruffled Alex's blonde hair in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture, "You're lethal, kid, you know that?"
"Did you just compliment me?"
"Don't get used to it; it's not going to happen often."
Alex offered him a tired smile at that which Wolf returned. Turning gruff again, he threw the now-melting ice bags into the sink and said, "All right then, heart-warming moment over; shower and get to bed. I'll get you some pain killers."
Alex grinned, jumping down from the counter and trying to hide a wince as the movement sent a dull wave of pain up his aching, bruised legs. "Thanks, Wolf."
He was halfway out the door when the man answered him, "Chris."
Surprised, Alex turned around to face the elder man, "What?"
"That's my name: Chris. Good night, Alex."
"Good night . . . Chris."