DISCLAIMER: I don't own Alex Rider

Alex Rider sat quietly on the train, his head resting tiredly against the glass of the window. The glass was cool, a pleasant relief from the muggy heat outside. A man sat beside him, concentrating on the newspaper in his hands. Alex paid him no attention, his thoughts acted as enough of a distraction.

Who was the boy who'd rescued him and why had he done it? As far as Alex could remember, he wasn't someone that he'd known. So why had a complete stranger come to his rescue, forsaking his own life in the process? And for that matter, what had Alex needed saving from? Why couldn't he remember?

Frustrated, Alex bumped his head softly against the window, closing his eyes and listening to the soft dull thud of his skull against glass. But the more Alex tried to remember what he'd been through, the foggier the memories got. Absentmindedly, he scratched at his chest, just above his heart. It was unbelievably itchy but stubbornly Alex pushed this detail from his mind. He had more important issues to be dealing with and an itchy old scar was not one of them.

Suddenly Alex felt like he was being watched. Surreptitiously, he slid his eyes across to find the man sitting next to him staring at him. There was a concerned look in his eyes and a slight frown on his face. Alex quickly studied the man. Short clean gray hair, a fresh face and startling bright blue eyes that bore an abundance of emotion – nothing that shouted killer or kidnapper.

Alex turned his whole head and stared the man down.

"What?"

The man lowered his newspaper and cleared his throat. "Are you alright?"

Alex couldn't help himself. Once again he found himself searching the man's eyes for further motive. Finding nothing, the boy sighed.

"Yeah I'm fine, just frustrated. Thanks though."

The man nodded, still looking concerned. He lifted his newspaper back up and continued to read. Alex turned back to the window, trying to calm himself down. His memories would return in their own time and until then he had to figure out the next most important thing – what the boy had whispered to him as they parted.

His thoughts churned as the train continued south. It wasn't long before Alex became restless. His right leg was jiggling up and down constantly while his hands fiddled mindlessly with the bottom of his shirt.

Minutes before his station appeared, Alex once again felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his ears redden. His eyes slid quickly over to the man but he was still engrossed in his newspaper. So someone else on the train was watching him.

For the third time that day, Alex let his instincts take over him. He knew that he couldn't turn around as that would give him away, let his followers know that he knew someone was watching him. So instead, Alex stood up and excused himself to the man, waited until his neighbour had removed himself from Alex's way and then began walking down the aisle of the train carriage.

He slipped into the carriage joiner, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it empty. Glancing around him, he saw the doors of the train on both sides of him and a chemical toilet off to his left. In front of him was the entry to the next carriage.

Alex moved quickly to his right, hoping that his followers would instinctively look left first – in the direction of the toilet. But even if they did, it wouldn't matter. His stop was the next one and he could see the platform coming into view already as the train slowed.

As the train continued to slow, the door opened behind him and Alex tensed, ready for anything. His muscles were coiled, ready to strike but his body looked relaxed. Alex was reminded of his days working for MI6 but he forced those dark thoughts out of his mind.

A man stepped into his peripheral vision and Alex froze. The man had a newspaper tucked under his arm and a briefcase in his hand. Alex recognised the man who had sat next to him for the majority of the train trip but frowned. Surely he couldn't…?

Then the door opened again and two men clad in trench coats stepped into the small connecting carriage. They glanced left like Alex had suspected they would and then turned to see Alex in the corner. Alex watched them carefully, unwilling to do anything in front of a civilian. But neither man moved, just stood there, swaying silently with the train's rhythm, watching him. Apparently they were as unwilling as Alex to involve any unnecessary people.

The train squealed to a halt and the doors opened with a hiss. Alex glanced away quickly and leapt onto the platform. He was running before his feet hit the ground.

He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring disgruntled commuters, focusing on just getting away. Footsteps followed him as he dashed down a flight of stairs into an underground tunnel that would take him back up onto street level. Alex pushed himself, knowing he could go faster than what he was currently going but his legs didn't seem to want to work properly. They felt heavier than normal.

Suddenly something slammed into his back and he went flying against the tunnel wall. His shoulder hit the bricks hard and he cried out in pain as he felt his shoulder dislocate. Alex spun, forcing his mind to forget the pain in his shoulder and focus on his attackers instead.

One of the men was picking themselves up of the ground, while the other caught up. Alex sprang into action. His instincts told him what to do and his body did the rest. With incredible speed, Alex's foot soared around in a roundhouse kick and slammed into the man who had knocked him into the wall. The man went down with a grunt but Alex didn't have time to congratulate himself. The other man had caught up and was coming at Alex with a knife.

In a move that Ian had taught him many years ago, Alex sidestepped the knife, grabbing the man's arm on the follow through and bringing it down hard on his knee. The man cried out and dropped the knife. Alex didn't wait for the man to recover, driving his palm into the man's face. He heard his nose crunch and watched as the man fell to his knees, clutching at his nose with his uninjured hand.

The other man was beginning to rise again so Alex leant over him and applied a little bit of pressure on his temple and the man slumped, unconscious.

Alex glanced down the tunnel, checking that it was still relatively empty before walking away. His shoulder screamed at him and he knew that he needed to push it back into place but he wasn't brave enough to do it himself. He didn't want to risk pushing it back in only to find out later that it wasn't in correctly and was pinching a nerve. So for the moment he left it dangling limply at his side and made his way out of the station as casually as he could.

***

Wes paced up and down in his cell. Time was passing incredibly slowly. He felt as though he'd been in this empty room for days when in reality it had only been two hours. His stomach hurt where he'd been punched and his wrists were still sore from being restrained during his interrogation. Drevin had inflicted little physical torture on him and that made Wes wary.

If Drevin suspected that he knew anything, wouldn't it be logical for him to try and get it out of him? He could be torturing him right now but Wes had no visitors. Not that he wanted to be subjected to immense amounts of pain, no far from it. He was just curious and wary of why nothing ill had befallen him.

The hours ticked by and Wes grew more and more tense as his unease heightened. When he was finally visited by sleep, he tossed and turned, dark memories giving way to his horribly vivid imagination. Waking was not much better but at least he didn't see his mother's death over and over in his mind's eye.

It wasn't until late the next afternoon that Wes received anything from the outside world. A man opened the heavy metal door to Wes's cell and waited cautiously as another placed a foam cup on the ground beside the door, along with a piece of stale bread.

Then they left, locking the door behind them.

It wouldn't have mattered whether they locked it or not, Wes thought bitterly. There was no doorknob on his side anyway.

He moved swiftly over to his meager offerings and devoured the bread in a second. The water he drank slowly, savouring the feeling as it soothed his dry throat. When he finished, he left the cup where the guards had placed it and returned to his original position, sitting hunched in the corner. He stayed like that for hours, waiting for anything – something – to happen.

But it wasn't until five days later that Wes's situation changed.

Please review!! It'll mean a lot!! Any questions, comments… don't hesitate to review and I'll answer them as best I can. I hope you all like the story so far… and a HUGE thanks to those who reviewed previously!!

Also, I have a story up on FictionPress that might interest you if you like action/romance and suspense. Just look up verbalalchemist under author and you'll find it!! And if you can be bothered to read it – which I really hope you can – please review and I'll post some more of it for you! Thank you!