Disclaimer: Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz, not me.

WARNING: this contains several not very nice swear words (though can you blame Alex?). Please do not read if this will offend you.

'Courage or deceit: who'll question it in war?'

(Aeneid Book II, Virgil)

Ben drew up outside the back of the school at exactly five o'clock. He doubted Alex would be out on time by the sound of his bloody teacher (who seemed like a complete arse in his opinion, but he had promised Alex he wouldn't get involved), but didn't want to be late. He grabbed the newspaper he'd picked up on the way to the school and settled in to read.

Girl, 6, discovered missing after left with babysitter. . .

Government economic scandal exposed through forgotten letters. . .

Injured woman demands compensation from bus company . . .

The depressing news headlines leapt out at him and he sighed, flicking through a few pages until he found the small little columns in the middle of the newspaper. These tiny columns always cheered him up – the smaller the text, the more bizarre the story, in his opinion.

He sufficiently passed the time reading these until he glanced at his watch and saw it was five twenty. Where was Alex? He'd been told the detention would finish at five, and even if it overran a little Alex should have been out by now. He felt a stirring of unease in his gut but pushed it down. There would be an explanation, he was sure. He'd give it five more minutes, then go and check with the school. The idiot of the teacher had probably extended the detention by half an hour or something.

But five minutes later there was still no sign of Alex, and Ben felt anxiety lift its ugly head. He jumped out of the car, absently locking it behind him, and hurried to the front of the school.

"Hey," he almost barked at the receptionist. "I'm looking for Alex Rider? He had detention and was supposed to be out at five."

The receptionist glanced at the clock on the wall, and smiled in a friendly manner, seeming not to mind Ben's rudeness. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation, Mr . . .?"

"Daniels," Ben said, calming marginally. "Ben Daniels. Could you perhaps send someone to look for him?"

"Why don't you just come with me and I'll take you to him?" she replied, standing up from behind the desk. She looked around fifty or so, a kind and friendly woman who perhaps wanted the job just for some company.

"Thanks," Ben said, breathing a sigh of relief. "That- that would be great, thank you."

"Which teacher was the detention with?" she asked, leading him around to the main part of the school.

"I don't know his name," Ben said apologetically, looking at his surroundings. The school was bleak and grey; he couldn't imagine spending every day here and enjoying it. "He taught chemistry?"

"Oh, yes, Alex'll be in the chemistry area then,"

"Thanks," Ben said again. "It's just not like him to be late, not at all."

"So I've heard," the woman replied genially. "I work with Miss Bedfordshire, you know? She thinks the world of Alex. Very worried she was when he started missing school."

"Right," Ben said awkwardly, not having the slightest clue who Miss Bedfordshire was.

"Well, here's the chemistry department," she said a couple of minutes later, gesturing to the classrooms. She rapped on the office door and a tall man came to open it.

"Can I help?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"We're looking for Alex Rider," the receptionist offered. "He was having detention here?"

"Rider?" the man asked, looking confused. Ben felt a thrill of fear rush through him. If Alex wasn't here, he didn't know what to do. "I sent him home at five-to-five. He went straight off, far as I know."

"He was having detention with you?" Ben cut in. Full clown panic was coursing through him now. He'd been waiting outside the school since five; surely, he couldn't have missed Alex? Where would the spy go, anyway? He'd known Ben was coming to meet him.

"Yes," the man said. "Is there a problem?"

"None at all," Ben said hurriedly, not allowing the receptionist to speak. "Do you know what direction he went in?"

"Headed to the back of school, I think," the teacher answered. "Why? Has the brat gone off with friends without telling you or something?"

"I expect so," Ben sighed, impressing himself with his ability to lie so fluently when really he was having trouble controlling his breathing. "I just wish he'd told me first."

"Well, teenagers are a bit like that, aren't they?" the receptionist trilled, thanking the teacher for his help. "I'll take you back to reception, shall I?"

"Thank you," Ben said automatically, following her down the halls. But Alex wasn't like other teenagers. He wouldn't go off on his own for no reason whatsoever, especially when he knew exactly how much danger he was in every second of the-

What about the agents? Ben thought suddenly. They were supposed to be following him. If he could get in contact with them, they'd have to know where Alex was. It was their job, after all.

Damn, he didn't have any number for them. He'd have to call Blunt. He murmured a quick goodbye and thank you to the receptionist and wandered out into the car park of the school. He dialled MI6 briskly, willing his hands to stop shaking.

Damnit, he was stronger than this. He was an agent, for Christ's sake. Difficult situations were what he dealt with every bloody day.

But it's never been Alex in danger before, a tiny voice whispered, and he quashed it down. He had to stay calm. Had to. For Alex.

"I need to speak to Blunt," he snapped as soon as the call connected.

"I'm sorry, sir, there's-" a voice started to say.

"It's Agent Daniels," he interrupted, rattling off his code number. "Put me through to him or Jones, now!"

"Of course, sir," the voice said shakily. A wave of calm waiting music came over the phone and Ben clenched his fist. Hurry up, for God's sake.

"Daniels," Mrs Jones voice said, stopping the music. "What's going on?"

"Alex is missing," he said immediately. He expected Mrs Jones to ask questions such as 'are you sure?' and 'how do you know?'. Instead, he got a quick response.

"We've lost contact with our agents,"

"Lost contact?" he repeated, incredulous.

"They have stopped responding to their radios. They radioed in because they'd seen something suspicious, but they now seem to be down."

"What did they see?" Ben asked, desperate for any information. As he was talking, he wandered around the back of the school, looking for any clues.

"There was a van hanging around outside the school, with no one going in or out. The engine was on the whole time," Mrs Jones rattled off, sounding as if she was reading from a script. To be honest, she probably was.

"And then the radio went quiet?"

"Yes," Mrs Jones said briskly, sounding more like herself. "We've sent people out to try and track them down. I'll let you know when we hear from them."

"Thanks," Ben replied, climbing over the back gate of the school with one hand, cursing the difficulty of spying whilst on the phone.

"You'd better come in," the deputy head continued. "We can't risk you going missing too."

Ben snorted, knowing that her concern was not for him at all, but for the safety of the country. If Menarc – because who else would it be? – had both him and Alex, they would use them against each other.

"I'll come in when I've looked around a bit," he bargained, unwilling to sit in an office and do nothing. He'd rather be out, looking around, feeling useful.

"No," Mrs Jones snapped harshly. "You'll come in now, Daniels, do you understand?"

Ben felt hysteria bubble within him but pushed it down. Alex was out there, alone, most likely being tortured again, and K Unit were in one of the most dangerous countries there were, and he was useless. Absolutely bloody useless. And the bitch wouldn't even let him do anything. This was going to drive him to insanity.

"Fine," he choked out. "Fine." He'd do it, but he wasn't going to be bloody happy about it.

"Good," Mrs Jones said shortly, and hung up. Ben stared at his phone, wondering what the hell he was supposed to feel.

Panic, he guessed, was normal. But Christ, he hated this.

Right, he told himself firmly, train to the Bank. That was the first step. One thing at a time, that was the way to go.

"Ah, Daniels," Mrs Jones said in greeting when he finally walked into Blunt's office some time later. She was seated at the other end of the desk than Blunt, who didn't look up from the paper on his desk.

"Mrs Jones, Mr Blunt," Ben said respectfully. He'd had a chance to compose himself on the train to central London. He would be no good to Alex if he wasn't thinking clearly.

"Take a seat," Jones offered, gesturing to a chair.

He sank into the chair in relief, but didn't allow himself to relax. "Any news?" he asked, a faint tinge of desperation to his voice.

"We believe Alex has been kidnapped," Blunt answered, glancing up at him. Ben resisted the urge to say no shit.

"The agents have been found," Jones took over. "They were knocked out with chloroform but have been coming round quite quickly, according to our doctors."

"What happened to them?" Ben questioned, wishing the heads would just hurry up and tell him.

"They should be coming any second now to report straight in to us," Jones said, glancing at the door.

Sure enough, a knock was soon heard.

"Come in!" Jones called, and two bedraggled looking men walked into the room. Their faces and eyes were red and sore. Bruises seemed to be forming and one of them limped slightly when they walked. They looked- well, they looked like they'd been in a fight.

Ben stood up, offering them both a seat, figuring they needed it more than him.

"Mrs Jones, Mr Blunt," one of them mumbled in greeting as they both collapsed into a sitting position. Ben didn't think either of them were in a fit state to be wandering around.

"Harper, Williams, could you tell us what happened?" Mrs Jones asked, her voice softening ever so slightly.

"You heard our report, right, Ma'am?" one of them began, and Ben leaned back against the wall. "About the van and everything?"

Mrs Jones nodded.

"Well, we were trying to get a bit closer, to see who was driving it and what was inside and stuff, when two men snuck up behind us and tried to knock us out. They managed to stick a bloody chloroform cloth on our faces and we ended up unconscious."

Ben sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. Why had MI6 assigned such incompetent idiots to guard him and Alex? If the apologetic glance the deputy head shot his way was anything to go by, she had realised her mistake too. How could the two agents not have realised there could be other people around? Hadn't they been on guard?

Blunt ignored the failings of his agents to get to the heart of the matter. "Did you get a look at their faces? The van number plate?"

"No sir," one said, looking down in obvious humiliation. "We were caught by surprise, sir."

"You idiots could cost Alex his life," Ben hissed angrily, no longer feeling sorry for them. "Why were you not prepared for an attack? Why weren't you on guard? What the hell were you even-"

"Daniels," Blunt snapped. "That is not helping."

Ben scowled but subsided.

"Now," Blunt continued, "we must presume it is Menarc who have taken Alex, so we will act accordingly. Every agent we have that is anywhere remotely linked to the organisation is on full alert and have been briefed about who to look for. We are gathering all the information we have on Menarc and will start search and rescue operations."

"Does Alex have a tracker still?" Ben asked, his anger feeling somewhat deflated now Blunt was proving he was going to act quickly and strongly to get Alex back.

"Yes," Jones said quietly, "the tracker we gave him will stay with him permanently. We have people waiting for the second it starts emitting a signal but . . ." she trailed off.

Ben understood. If the tracker started, it would mean Alex was being tortured severely. It would help them find him, yes, but it could spell his death.

"What can I do?" Ben asked, hoping he would be given a job.

Blunt shook his head. "Go home," he said simply. "Stay inside and don't take risks. You'll be no help to us if you get yourself caught too."

"I'm no help to you now," Ben muttered, frustrated. The urge to hit something, anything, sprung up. For Christ's sake, Alex was in danger and he couldn't do anything. He was completely, utterly, thoroughly, helpless.

"We'll keep you updated," Jones told him, her voice rasping. She cleared her throat stoically, but Ben detected a glimmer of worry behind the mask. "Just-" she looked at Blunt briefly, "just keep hoping."

Ben nodded, the lump in his throat too large to risk speaking. He turned to leave, ignoring the two agents completely as he went. "Thanks," he said in a low voice, unsure as to what he was even speaking about.

"We'll keep in touch, Daniels," Blunt said, hardly looking at him. Ben nodded again, leaving the room. He mechanically got into the lift, not thinking about where he was going or what on earth he was going to do when he got home. His thoughts, instead, were with the sixteen year old boy who was once more in pain and alone. They boy whom Ben had, ever so slowly but ever so strongly, grown to love as a son.

Alex woke up slowly, wincing at his aching muscles and bruises. He looked around at his surroundings and groaned when he remembered what had happened. The men at his school, the van. . . He had vague memories of waking up groggy and confused several times along the journey and being almost immediately smothered with the sickly sweet cloth. The journey must have been a long one then, he concluded. Christ, he may not even be in England anymore. Then again, it would have been difficult to smuggle him through the border controls in the state he was in.

He stood up gradually, conscious of the pounding in his head and the dizziness. Gripping onto the wall, he made his way around the small, dimly lit room he found himself in. It was so reminiscent of the last cell he'd been kept in that the flashbacks made him reel. His breathing faltered, his heart fluttered, and panic threatened to overwhelm him completely. He didn't want to be tortured again.

Stop it. You're fine, he told himself. He couldn't afford to lose his head, not in a situation like this. He carried on with his journey, pausing to inspect the door. It was thick metal with a small plastic window at around head height. It looked like a prison cell; there was even a bolted down bunk bed. There was no food or drink in the room and, at first glance, no toilet. He continued searching the room and eventually found a bucket tucked in the corner. Fantastic, he thought sourly. Kidnapping, fine, but giving him a bucket for a toilet? That was just unfair.

He finished his inspection of the room and, finding nothing new, sat down on the thin bed. There were no sheets or blankets, but at least it was somewhere to perch. He hadn't spotted any cameras, but that didn't mean they – whoever they were – weren't watching him. He made sure to appear calm and together the whole time. There was no use in giving them ammunition against him. He lay back on the bed, thinking he might as well relax whilst he was waiting. There was nothing he could do at that moment.

Half an hour later, he was incredibly bored. He resorted to doing press-ups and sit-ups on the floor. He was tempted to practice his karate but didn't want to give them any clues about his fighting style – although those men may have reported back. It was weird that they'd only sent two men to get him. If it wasn't for the chloroform, they may not have been able to catch him at all. It was risky, very risky. Menarc knew him, knew he could fight. They'd nearly lost him last time (and it felt so long ago now) because they underestimated his ability. To do it again . . . Well, it was stupid. And terrorist organisations don't normally behave like that. They don't get far in the criminal world if they keep on messing up and taking ridiculous risks.

So what was going on?

Ben answered the ringing phone automatically, slumping down on the sofa with it cradled to his ear. "Hello?"

"Mr Daniels," a voice spoke and Ben jumped to his feet. "We would be most grateful if you could pop into the bank today. We have a couple of queries concerning your account."

There was only one thought running through Ben's head as he shoved on some shoes and ran out the door.

Alex. They had to have news about Alex.

He arrived at the Royal and General Bank in record time, slightly out of breath from the hurried journey. He was immediately shown up to a small room in a different area than normal. Jones was there, as always, and she looked emotionless. That doesn't mean anything, Ben tried to tell himself. But if they had found Alex, there would be some glimmer of relief or happiness, surely?

"Take a seat, Daniels," he was told. He did, sitting by the desk on which there was a very high-tech computer. Come to think of it, there was a lot of fancy equipment in the room. Some sort of tech base?

"We've managed to establish a safe video call with K Unit out in Iraq," Mrs Jones told him and Ben felt his heart deflate. He knew where this was going. "We are going to pull them out," she continued. "It's far too dangerous to have them at risk when they could be used against Alex."

"Ok," Ben said slowly. "Why do you need me?"

"We thought the news about Alex would be better coming from you."

"Right," Ben replied, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of having to tell K Unit what had happened. "Can you, you know- I mean, can I . . .?"

"I'll leave you alone to break the news," Mrs Jones said, understanding in that creepy way of hers exactly what he was trying to say. "Be gentle about it," she added. "We don't want them doing anything reckless."

Ben thought about defending his friends but decided it wasn't worth the trouble. There was a glimmer of truth in what she'd said, anyway. His friends were good people, strong fighters, but they weren't the most rational of men at times. There was a reason they stayed in the SAS.

"Just press the green button on the phone when you're ready. It's all set up for you," Mrs Jones told him, before departing from the room.

Calming his racing heart, Ben slowly hit the button on a phone in front of him. There was a ringing sound and a blurry image of a hotel room appeared on the computer screen. Ben exhaled shakily.

"Ben," Wolf said, an element of surprise in his voice. Eagle and Snake were clustered around him, both looking tired and very wary.

"Hi guys," Ben replied hopelessly. He didn't want to do this; didn't want to deliver the news that had shattered him already.

"What's going on?" Snake demanded.

"What have you been told?" Ben said instead, trying to delay the moment.

Wolf and Snake looked at each other. "Not much," Wolf said. "Just that we're being pulled out and a secure link was being established to explain to us why."

"Right, yeah," Ben muttered.

"Where's Alex?" Eagle asked wearily. Ben wondered if it was the situation in Iraq that had made him so, or if the man had figured it out already. Behind the idiocy, Eagle was fairly sharp.

"Alex is- he's been- umm, Alex has been taken by Menarc," Ben said in a rush, adding on "we think."

Wolf and Snake reared back slightly. Eagle shut his eyes briefly but displayed little surprise. The soldier had guessed then.

"Wh-" Wolf cleared his throat. "When?"

"Yesterday," Ben replied, maintaining eye contact even though all he wanted to do was look away from the soldiers going through exactly what he had – and was still.

Snake's mumbled 'shit' didn't go unheard and Ben saw Eagle reach out a hand and lay it on Snake's arm. Snake grabbed it with his other hand.

"What happened?" Wolf queried harshly.

"He was taken from school, we reckon," Ben informed him. "We don't know exactly, but the two agents who were supposed to be following him had seen a suspicious van hanging around. They both ended up knocked out, the idiots."

"Bloody incompetent spies," Eagle spat.

Ben smirked slightly. "I know. I think Jones and Blunt chewed them out though."

"They deserve to be shot," Snake muttered. "Their mistake could result in Alex being killed."

"I know," Ben sighed. "But we're a democracy here. We have to do things the proper way."

"Is there any news?" Wolf cut in, obviously fed up with the inane talk.

Ben shook his head. "None that I know of, but Blunt has men out everywhere looking for him and every agent connect to Menarc at the moment is on full alert."

"It won't be enough," Eagle said in a depressed voice.

"It might be," Ben retorted. It could be, would be, should be enough.

But we didn't find him last time until the tracker activated, a little voice whispered. Shut up, he told it. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Anyway, we can talk more when you get home, right?" Ben said, mustering up a weak smile.

"Yeah," Snake replied. "We should be back in a day or so, it depends on when they can get us a safe flight."

"Well, hurry home, ok?" Ben pushed back his chair. "I'm all alone here."

"Ahh, is little Benny getting lonely?" Wolf teased, although his voice was flat.

"Something like that," Ben answered with a sad twitch of his lips. Yes, he wanted to scream. His flat had never seemed so quiet, or so frightening. He'd become so used to the presence of someone that to be alone was torture.

"We'll see you soon," Wolf promised and Snake nodded. Eagle stayed quiet, his face grim and drawn.

"Stay safe," Ben told them firmly, leaning forward to switch off the call. He put his head in his hands for a second, safe in the knowledge that he could be alone with his grief, before pushing himself up and leaving the room. He had to stay strong.

For Alex.

"Get up, Rider!" a voice snapped as Alex blinked himself back into awareness. He shot upright on the bed, hauling himself to his feet immediately. One of the men who had taken his stood in the open doorway to his room; the man's face bruised and sore looking. Alex smirked, glad to see they had suffered similar damage to him.

"I'm up," he retorted snarkily. "What?"

"Come with me," the man ordered.

"Make me," Alex shot back straight away. So perhaps pissing off his captors wasn't the best idea, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Don't tempt me." The man waved a gun at him with a mocking grin. "Get over here, Rider."

Alex scowled but did as ordered. He was no use to anyone if he got himself shot. As soon as he got close enough, the man grabbed him and held the gun to his head.

"Walk," the man growled, and Alex did. The cold, hard metal of the gun was pressing against his temple as they wandered through some plain, damp corridors.

"Where are we going?"

"Shut up," the man bit out, and Alex frowned to himself. The man sounded almost . . . afraid. But why would he be afraid? Were there issues within the Menarc leadership? That could be either good or bad for him; he needed more information to use it to his advantage.

"Bosses not like you?" he taunted, knowing that the man was unlikely to shoot him without good cause. After all, they'd gone to the trouble of kidnapping him rather than killing him there and then.

"I'm my own boss," the man said harshly, shoving him forward roughly.

"I'll leave you to your little delusions," Alex replied mockingly, although inwardly his mind was racing. Was the man just a bit delusional, choosing to believe he had control? Or was there something else going on? The man surely couldn't be in charge of Menarc, so perhaps this was just a faction of it. Maybe it wasn't Menarc at all - but if it wasn't Menarc, who was it?

"Shut up!" The man pulled back the gun slightly and slammed it down on Alex's head. He crumpled momentarily, trying to breathe through the sudden pain. The gun instantaneously came back to rest beside his forehead.

"Keep moving," the man ordered, pushing his body forward as Alex straightened up and recomposed himself.
"Fuck. You." Alex hissed, but did as he was told. The man didn't talk again, and Alex decided that more questions might not be received well.

They arrived shortly at a nondescript door, which the man opened and marched Alex through. Inside the room were an empty desk and two men, standing on the opposite side of it. One of the men was the other one who'd taken him from school. He looked far tidier than his colleague did; obviously the one who'd held the chloroform. He didn't look like he'd been in a fight.

"Alex Rider," the one Alex didn't recognize said, interest evident in his voice.

"Nice to meet you," Alex replied sarcastically. A flicker of hatred entered the man's eyes but he didn't retaliate.

"Let him go," the man told the one behind Alex, who reluctantly lowered the gun. The man fingered the trigger threateningly but Alex ignored him. He named that man 'Trigger'. The one talking could be 'Watch', due to the expensive watch on his arm, and the other one – who hadn't yet spoken – could be 'Mouse'. There, that would keep them straight in his head. Naming them humanised them too, made them less like the evil robots they could otherwise imitate.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly, wishing they'd stop with the pretence already.

"Nothing drastic," Watch smirked. He appeared to be in charge of the others – so much for 'I'm my own boss'. "Just a little information."

"You won't be getting it," Alex responded bluntly, folding his arms and attempting to look bored.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Mouse said, a sadistic grin on his face.

"People have tried before you," Alex pointed out. "All of them failed."

"Oh I don't know," Trigger said, stepping in front of him. "They may not have gained info, but they hurt you a fair bit, didn't they?" He held the gun firmly and, as Alex watched, slammed it hard into Alex's thigh, right where the old wound was. Alex choked slightly, folding over his knee and gasping for breath. Christ, that hurt. The wound wasn't even healed properly and he hoped to hell it hadn't broken open again. He now knew: they had to be Menarc. Only they would know the exact placement of his wound.

"You bastard," Alex spat out, gaining his breath back and gently standing up straight. Trigger laughed at him; a mocking, inhuman sound.

"Language," he taunted.

"You know, you lot were more organised last time I was here," Alex commented, deciding that now was the time to get information. "It's unlike you to make the same mistake. Maybe Menarc's standards are slipping."

"Menarc is bloody useless," Watch snapped. Mouse quickly moved closer to him and whispered something in his ear, resulting in Watch paling slightly. Alex redefined his opinion on who was in charge of this little group.

"What he means to say," Mouse took over, "is that we decided to catch you ourselves."

"You mean your bosses don't even know?" Alex asked, eyes wide with incredulity. "Do you seriously think your disobedience will go over well?"

"They were going to let you go," Trigger informed him, eyes hard and cold. "You had all this protection and were worrying so much and Menarc were going to let you go free!"

"We couldn't let that happen," Watch continued. "You're too valuable – too dangerous – to let go."

"Thank you," Alex replied with a sarcastic grin. "You're not part of Menarc, then?"

"Oh we are," Watch said, and Alex felt a headache coming on. This was confusing him completely. "But we're more than that."

"We're Scorpia first and foremost," Trigger carried on. "It doesn't matter to us if Menarc are in control or not."

"You survived the takeover but weren't happy about it," Alex deduced with a sigh. God, what a messed up organisation. He doubted Menarc had predicted the many factions they would cause the group to split into when they made the decision to control the ruined Scorpia.

"Precisely," Watch grinned. "And, Alex Rider, Scorpia never forgive. Scorpia never forget."

A/N: Sorry this is quite bitty and not very fluent - it is hard to smoothly skip between different people and situations! I understand that people may be confused at the moment with the whole Menarc/Scorpia thing, but please just be patient. It should all be explained in a couple of chapters - if you're still confused, send me a PM or something. At least you're not alone, Alex is confused as well!

I did a bit of research on chloroform and generally it seems to be that people can recover from it fairly quickly when the chloroform is removed, although of course it comes with risks such as respiratory distress etc. It also seems to inflame people's eyes and faces if held against them, hence why characters are described as having red eyes and stuff.

Hmm, think that's all I had to say, except please do review! It means the world to me, and I especially love it when people ask questions and want to chat (hello Ringbearer0100!).

Dreams