A/N: And thus I am back... from that place... that I went... O.O ... Since it has been a while and my original plan for this story sort of withered and died, I've started steering NBD in a slightly darker direction. To be honest I wanted to scrap this story and rewrite it as a fullblown horrorfic, but so many people have followed it that I have decided to keep writing it as long as I have the muse. And fear not! My muse is - wait a minute. Where did that go?

Kidding. xD.

Uh, what else? Oh, yeah. My Beta has told me that she is picking up a slight slash vibe from this chapter. While I don't mind slash (diehard slash fangirl, right here), the relationship between Snake and Alex is strictly guardian/ward, bigbro/littlebro, father/son, platonic... etc. But feel free to read it as slash, if you can see it. :).

Anyway, enough from me. Onwards!

Never Back Down

Chapter Three

Alex trailed after his guardian, dragging his feet as though he was walking through a pool of honey. This wasn't the first time Snake had gotten him to participate in some mundane activity. Yesterday he'd found himself puzzling over the importance of separating whites from blacks while doing the laundry, even though he hadn't agreed to do it when Snake had asked. Hell, Alex hadn't even acknowledged the man's presence when he'd come in.

Yet, there he was. Stuffing clothes into a washing machine that clearly belonged in the nearest rubbish tip.

Snake, well, he had this openness about him that Alex couldn't ignore. Like Alex could approach him with absolutely anything and he would just accept it, regardless of what it was. Alex was pretty sure that if he walked up to the man and said; "Hey, so look. I sort of smashed your TV, broke your coffee table, pissed on your bed and set your house on fire." Snake's response would be, "It's alright, mate. I know you're going through a rough patch."

Then he'd probably top it off by pulling Alex in for a reassuring hug and a pat on the back.

It was almost like the man was incapable of expressing anger, especially if it was directed at Alex. Of course Snake felt it. Alex had seen the telltale signs of it on his face; narrowed eyes, downturned lips, a furrowed brow. But whenever he addressed Alex, it was never with anger.

And it was bloody infuriating.

No matter how hard Alex tried, he couldn't bring himself to hate the soldier. Sure, Snake had an annoying habit of being anywhere that Alex happened to be at that particular time. But it was never over-bearing or off-putting. More like he was just a part of the scenery. And yeah, at times it seemed that Snake's sole purpose in life was to just chatter at him. It was always about innocent things; the weather, the colour of the walls. The man talked in a way that never required Alex to reciprocate, but gave him the chance if he wanted to.

That was what made him so likeable. Snake never demanded, or intruded, unless it was truly necessary. Alex saw his constant presence as more of a reminder. A reminder that Snake was there, ready to offer whatever Alex needed. Whenever, or if ever, he needed it.

Alex leant against the counter in the kitchen, watching as Snake rifled through the contents of his fridge with some difficulty. The peeler Snake had offered him the exclusive use of coiling around his fingers with practised ease. In practise, though, Alex used a knife.

"How the hell did I get this in here?" Snake muttered, sounding more incredulous than annoyed.

"With a lot of shoving and swearing," Alex replied, tone flat. He berated himself a second later when Snake craned his neck to look at him, and immediately focused on the peeler.

Without a word, Snake turned back.

As kind as the man was, Alex didn't want him knowing the extent of his skills. Now it was common knowledge that Alex knew how to handle a blade, at least relatively well.

To counter his small slipup, Alex moved off the counter as Snake approached. He circled around to the other side, putting a barrier between them. Alex didn't have any qualms about Snake being close, but this gave the illusion that he did. This would keep the soldier guessing, unsure of where he stood with Alex. Or that was what Alex hoped would happen.

Again, Snake seemingly ignored him.

A second later, Alex flinched as the man flung a pair of carrots. He caught them both, grappling with one as it threatened to slide out of his grip. He put the other down on the counter and started peeling; brown eyes peering innocuously out from under blonde bangs.

Had throwing the carrots at him been a ploy to test his reflexes?

If it was, Snake didn't give any indication.

Then, the phone rang.

Snake moved to answer it out of habit, momentarily forgetting Alex. Then he stopped, his eyes flicking to the same blade Alex's had the second Snake turned his back. Alex instantly tore his gaze away, knowing exactly where Snake would look to next. He wasn't disappointed. The man's careful, calculating stare arrived at him, trying to see something.

Alex didn't know if he found what he was looking for, but a moment later, Snake left.

He was giving Alex the benefit of the doubt.

Mistake.

Alex was in a dark place, where the sun didn't shine and the happiness had been sucked out like a vacuum. Where each and every mistake Alex had made was on display, repeating over and over inside his head. Showing him with infinite detail exactly where he'd gone wrong, and the price others had paid for it.

But even in the dark place, Alex knew better than to allow himself weakness. Not that it was easy. There was so much to forget - so much to battle against. So many times that he hadn't been careful enough, that he'd slipped up and somebody else had paid for it. There were so many and they crowded him, an endless supply of memories –

Blood trickled down the woman's face, seeping out of her hairline, dripping from her nose. Her eyes were still wide in fear, her mouth open in what could have been either a wordless scream of terror, or a desperate plea for mercy. When Alex rolled her over, some part of him wanting to just know, he discovered the back of her head brutally caved in.

Blunt force trauma had killed his informant.

"Awex," his little companion tugged on the hem of his jeans, her doe-like eyes looking up at him questioningly. "They swaid Mommy won't stop sweeping 'cause of tch'you."

Alex stared down at the small girl.

"Why did tch'you make it so Mommy won't stop sweeping?"

- Some weren't even real, his psychiatrist said. They were just nightmares that he had turned into reality. Alex had believed her in the beginning, but then they became too tangible, too real for them to be fake. He stopped trying to separate them. Stopped trying because it was easier to lump them together and deal with them that way. Easier meant Alex could be more efficient, and Alex needed to be more efficient to stop the dark place growing.

He cut.

It started as punishment: for each death, for each bit of pain inflicted on somebody else because of him. But there wasn't enough space for Alex to punish himself properly. He tried, though. He cut everywhere. Even sucking on a razorblade when he'd run out of skin to work with. It wasn't enough. Jack had unknowingly thwarted his attempt at swallowing pins to start on his insides. In the end, Alex had to look at it differently. Because punishing wasn't working and death was too kind – he had to find another angle.

He felt guilt for what he turned to next. It was necessary, though. He had cut so much that it was getting harder to hide. Jack became curious about the long-sleeved shirts and turtleneck sweaters. They had never been his style before. Avoiding Jack that week had almost cost him her life. A hit and run that couldn't have been chance. The street it happened on was one-way, the car speeding from the wrong direction and seemingly forgetting to brake. It was while he was sitting at her bedside that he made the decision – he needed to put the lives of the living above those of the dead.

He toned it down – stopped cutting for punishment. But when he wasn't atoning for his mistakes, the memories returned. He would stand in front of the mirror, the figures of post-death victims whispering their accusations in his ear. It was terrible – the pain. Physical pain didn't hold a light to emotional pain, the latter lingering for years after the other had faded. But physical pain did hold a person's attention for the short period it lasted. So Alex decided to use it for a different purpose – to distract.

This way meant he only needed to do it occasionally. Every now and again, just to lessen the memories – to make them more manageable. He kept the cutting isolated to a specific part of his body so it was easier to cover up, returning to that spot when the last wounds had healed into scars. The drawback was that his relationship with self-harming became like that of an addict and their drug of choice. The longer Alex left it – the more he needed to do.

It was just his luck that when Snake decided to place his trust in him, Alex was coming down off a high. Snake's trust had made him hesitate, but that was all. Because cutting came first. It always came first. This time, though, the guilt came after.

When Snake looked at him like that; equal parts disappointed and angry, Alex couldn't stand it. Because that expression hadn't been directed at Alex, it never was. Snake was disappointed and angry with himself, and to cause somebody else emotional pain? After Alex was experiencing so much of it himself? That was one of the most unforgiveable things Alex could do.

He ran.

The door yielded under Snake's forceful kick, swinging open with a loud bang.

Snake was scared.

It was not often that fear coursed through the SAS soldier's veins, elevating his heart rate and blowing his pupils. Not often that his usually calm and rational mind was so scrambled that each thought repeated over and over, splintering and meshing together and leaving him an incoherent mess.

'Oh God, Oh God, Cub – dead, he's dead, he's fucking dea- get to the win – oh God, Oh God-'

With a job that left death hanging over his head like an anvil on a fraying rope, Snake had become desensitised to fear. These days more than half his life was spent working, and the work he did was so dangerous and sensitive that is was almost always documented as 'classified', even to him. He'd had his fair share of gunfights, and been knocked on his arse by more than one bullet. There was one time when a well-thrown frag put him in hospital with fractured bones and third degree burns. Another time and an experienced insurgent had caught him unawares and nearly garrotted him, the wire biting centimetres into his flesh before Wolf noticed and promptly snapped the bastard's neck.

For Snake, fear was an afterthought, if not nothing at all.

But this was different.

Cub was at the window all right, his flexible body already halfway out of it. He had one leg swung over the windowsill, balancing on the almost non-existent ledge outside. The rest of him was following, his upper body twisting out next. The other leg tensed, ready to go.

But he stopped. His dark brown eyes stared out at Snake through blonde bangs, seeing something in the man that made him pause.

"C-come away from the window, Cub." Snake managed to choke out, waiting for a couple of seconds before moving forward. As much as he wanted the kid to climb back into the room himself, he couldn't trust him to do that. Cub had crossed his tolerance threshold. There was no coming back from a fall that big, no walking away from it. All Cub had to do was slip, miscalculate, fall, let go and there would be a flattened mural of his teenaged ward on the street.

Snake wasn't going to take chances. Not this time.

He started slow. One step. Two steps. Three, four. His hands were out in front of him, placating, as he closed in. Cub watched him advance; his face contorting into more expressions than Snake had seen in the entire time the kid had been living with him. An inner conflict was going on, that was for sure, and Snake tensed like a coiled spring as Cub's face suddenly blanked into nothingness. It was all the warning he got.

Luckily, it was all Snake needed.

Cub very nearly vanished out the window before Snake's hands were fisting in the back of his grey cotton hoodie, forcefully dragging him back into the safety of the flat. That wasn't to say it went smoothly – the second Snake grabbed him, Cub exploded in a flurry of uncoordinated limbs that caused his unstable footing to slip. For one horrible moment that almost saw the soldier's heart explode out of his chest in a cloud of blood and raining gore, Cub was suspended six stories above ground level with Snake the only thing holding him there.

Then, Snake pulled him inside.

As the kid's feet slid through the window, Cub kicked off the windowsill with surprising force. The sudden momentum caught Snake off-guard and he toppled to the ground on his back. Cub landed on top of him, viciously driving an elbow into Snake's ribs.

The sudden pain made Snake let go of the kid, allowing Cub to climb off of him and find his legs. He wasn't on them for long, the soldier snaking an arm out to grip the kid's ankle and pull his feet from under him. Cub caught himself before he crashed into the floor, instantly rolling over. He launched himself at Snake, delivering a debilitating knee to the groin and a nasty right hook to the man's jaw.

"Fuck," Snake grunted as the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. The blow seemed to animate him. Catching the next swing that Cub was aiming at his nose, Snake clasped the skinny wrist and wrenched, sending Cub on a direct collision course with the soldier's chest. The moment he hit, Snake caught him in a crushing bear hug that pinned the kid's arms to his sides. He tucked the kid's head underneath his chin so Cub couldn't head-butt him, and then settled down to wait for the kid to run out of steam.

No matter what Cub did, Snake kept his arms locked around Cub's decidedly smaller, and frailer, body. Eventually, exhaustion brought the kid's weakening struggles to a halt, his frantic panting evening out to steady, deep breaths and his heart quit fluttering like that of a caged bird. By rights, Snake should have let go the moment Cub went limp with defeat and unwilling compliance. But the man just couldn't bring himself to do it.

It was the shock. He was having a hard time getting passed the, 'holy shit, my ward just attempted to climb out of a window and slide down six stories on a drainpipe,' and progressing to the, 'thank dear God, I've got him. Now I'm going to kill him.' Understandably, all other thoughts took a backseat in his mind and watched theatre while Snake got his shit together.

"Snake…" Cub rasped eventually, surprising the man out of his stupor. "You're hurting me…"

Snake relaxed his hold – slightly. If he had really put his mind to it, he might have been able to coax himself to let go. As it was, Cub was just going to have to deal with being his teddy bear for a little longer. He needed to sort himself out, and then start on sorting Cub out – and while that appeared to be a pretty simple two-step plan, Snake had absolutely no idea where to begin. So they were both going to sit there, because Snake couldn't trust Cub and what Cub wanted wasn't particularly important right then. That, and having the kid locked away safely in his grip was the only thing keeping Snake on the calm side of the border.

"Snake?" Cub had twisted to look at him, face wary. "Are you going to let me go?"

"No."

And that was that.

"We're going to talk about this."

Six words that Alex had come to hate with every fibre of his being. Realistically, everything had been fine at Snake's until the man had tried to push an issue. Now his guardian wanted to blow the topic wide open and Alex wanted to do anything but.

"There's nothing to talk about," Alex asserted from the chair he'd been shoved into. He scanned his surroundings again, not bothering to hide the fact that he was searching for a means of escape. There wasn't one, though. Snake had locked them in Alex's room; a place with one window that opened out into nothing but air and a door blocked by Snake's bulky frame. "I just wasn't hungry."

"That's nice," the soldier said, leaning heavily against the wooden doorframe and absently rubbing at the bruise on his ribs. "Here's the deal, kid. We're going to sort this issue out. We could just as easily talk about what happened earlier; with the cutting and the window, it's your choice. But we're going to talk - we are," he stressed when Alex snorted derisively. "Or I'm calling Shelley. Make a decision – and you can glare all you like, it won't change anything. Not this time."

Shelley, Shelley Christie. If Alex had to choose between Shelley and Wolf, he would pick Wolf every time. The woman was his psychiatrist: short and frumpy with a voice so sugary it made his teeth ache. She was on MI6's payroll, which meant that Alex had problems when it suited MI6 – when they needed him, he always seemed to have a clean bill of health.

"I don't want to talk about it." He crossed his arms and propped his legs up on the bed, blatantly ignoring the piercing look Snake was giving him.

There were footsteps. Snake swept Alex's feet off the bed and sat in their place, letting his hands dangle uselessly between his knees. "C'mon, mate. You know I want to call her even less than you do. But you're not leaving me many options here. If you won't eat, you'll end up in hospital. MI6 will jump on anything that makes me look like an unfit guardian. Don't screw up the chance Jack and Ben made for you. MI6 are off our back now, but don't think they're out of the picture. They're just biding their time."

A beat of silence passed. Snake pressed on.

"Let me help you, Cu-… Alex."

His name. Don't say his name. Cub was easy. He was somebody else entirely. Little boy lost in a place he didn't belong. Nobody had wanted Cub. That was good.

Everybody wanted Alex.

"They're just biding their time."

"You think…" He couldn't look at Snake, couldn't meet his gaze. He looked in the mirror instead, feeling slightly relaxed when Yassen looked back. Glassy eyes and grey skin with a bullet wound leeching blood - the Russian assassin had yet to blame Alex for anything. "You think they'll… take me away?"

"Yes."

That was unfathomable. No Jack or Snake. Just MI6. And what would they do without any means of blackmail? It took a lot to scare Alex these days, but the creativity of the human psyche when it wanted something was enough to fill him with fear. "I… you can't let them."

"Talk to me, Cub," Snake noted the way Alex's shoulders went lax in relief as the codename slipped off his tongue. "I can stop them from taking you if you let me in."

He couldn't. He really, really couldn't. Could he? He'd tried telling Jack. She hadn't been able to understand. Ben – well. They just weren't that close. But Snake. What was Snake to him?

Snake was further than Ben, but closer than Jack.

That didn't even make any sense. Try again, brain.

To his credit, Snake waited patiently for Alex to try and wrap his mind around it all.

That was the tipping of the iceberg. Alex wasn't going to let Snake in. But he'd crack a window and let the man take a quick peek.

Just like Jack.

Alex was in the kitchen when they called. The phone rang in the background, the noise dulled slightly by the vehement hiss of the heated frying pan. With a sigh, he pulled the pan from the heat as to not burn the food. It was Jack's favourite, Cantonese stir fry.

He ambled over to answer the phone, swatting at the smoky air around him with a tea towel. He reminded himself to open a window next time, surprised that the smoke alarm hadn't gone off yet. Maybe the batteries had expired. He should probably get that checked.

"Lo'," he said into the phone distractedly, still eyeing the supposedly dead smoke alarm.

'Alex Rider?'

"Speaking," Alex answered.

'This is a message, for those you work for. Tell them they sent a sheep in a wolf's clothing – a boy in a man's stead. That boy made a mistake, and now the innocent will pay for it.'

Alex was met with the dial tone.

Three days later, the body of Eric Morrow surfaced. He was five years old, taken while playing in his backyard under the careful watch of the family dog. To this day, MI6 never told Alex how he died. But that it was his name, which they'd carved into Eric's neck.

Snake blinked. "I don't understand…"

Alex breathed out a soft sigh. Just like Ja-

"You won't eat stir fry because of what happened to Eric?"

Huh. It was Alex's turn to blink in confusion. Not at all like Jack, apparently. "Yeah…"

Snake rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, looking contemplative. "But that's not just it, is it? You won't eat anything I make. Hell, not even cereal-"

"A hand."

"What, Cub?"

"There was a hand…" The kid sounded so distant, his expression blank and clearly faraway – almost like he'd mentally checked out of the situation. Probably remembering something, Snake decided, pushing himself off the bed to give Alex a gentle shake when he flinched. It didn't appear to be a good memory, either.

There was no outward response.

"Cub?" Snake tried again, hunkering down in front of him. Still nothing. "You in there?" He questioned, waving a hand in the kid's face. Alex came out of his trance with a jerk, frowning down at Snake in mild annoyance.

"What?" Alex snapped, his pupils a little too big to completely sell Snake on his current state of mind.

"Where did you go?"

"Nowhere," Alex said as though Snake was dumb. "I'm still here. I haven't moved."

"You know what I meant."

"I don't."

"You do."

"That's childish."

"Says the child."

Alex scowled now, glowering into the mess that was Snake's hair. It had grown out of its military buzz cut, spiking out all over the place in a way that reminded him of Tom. A few more weeks and it wouldn't be as wild, but that was just a guess an-

"You said 'there was a hand', Cub." Snake said finally, interrupting Alex's mundane train of thought. It was a defence mechanism. Focus on something that didn't matter to avoid something you didn't want to confront. "What did you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not."

"I'll call Shell-"

"In the cereal."

Christ. Snake wanted to find a wall and introduce his head to it repeatedly. Talking to Cub right now was like talking to Ben after that time in Beirut – oh.

Well, shit.

"What?" Snake asked, though this time it was kinder and understanding. He had a fair idea where this was going and there was a quiet thought in the back of his mind, one that mocked and whispered and said that he hadn't really wanted to know at all. Snake mentally shrugged at that. It didn't matter if he didn't want to know. He was going to find out, and then he was going to fix it.

"There was a hand in the cereal…" Alex elaborated after a moment. "Don't know how it got there… Black and rotting… Jack screamed…"

That… turned his stomach a bit. Snake didn't say anything for a time, his hand absently patting Alex's leg in what was meant to be comfort. It was a lot to process, but he didn't have time to regroup and sort himself out. He wasn't the priority here. Cub was.

"I-" Snake began, but paused when Alex pried his hand off his leg. There was a moment where Cub traced each callous and blemish on Snake's palm and Snake watched the fascination on the kid's face with growing unease. "I- I don't… Are you still with me, Cub?"

One finger, two finger, three finger, four. Five finger…

"Yes." Alex responded in a monotone, dropping Snake's hand and reaching for the other. Snake met him halfway.

Six finger, seven finger, eight finger, more. Nine finger…

"You're not not-eating on purpose," Snake announced, rumbling baritone bordering on a croon. Alex was acting strange, weird – no. It was more childlike, vulnerable, even. Snake wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but he didn't want to drive it back beneath Alex's hardened exterior just yet. He didn't particularly like it, but it was more – informative.

"Thumbs aren't fingers," Alex told him. "You only have eight fingers. Not nine. Nine is wrong. Two are thumbs."

Snake knew what this was. It wouldn't work. "Food makes you remember things, doesn't it, Cub? Bad things."

Alex hummed softly, still toying with Snake's hand. He twisted it this way and that, rotated the man's wrist and bent the fingers as far as they would go. In the end, though, he simply held onto it, gripped it like a kid would their mother's at the mall.

Little boy lost, Snake thought.

"I don't want to remember."

Review? And if there is a plot bunny or pairing for AR that somebody would like to read but doesn't want to write, I don't mind doing it! I need to start writing more and it is actually easier for me if it's for someone else, lol. So, uh, just putting that one out there. :).

Thanks to everyone who has read so far. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectation.