Summary: Difficult questions and long overdue revelations. There's trouble ahead.

Date: Jan. 3rd - 10 am, between Hold My Hand Two Roads (Timeline: http :/ shiruy. livejournal. com/ 3602. html)

38. Abandoned

There was no way he would be able to go back to sleep.

At first he had tried to lay down and think about nothing, but his thoughts refused to quiet down or get off the fact that Yassen had killed his uncle. He wasn't sure why remembering came as such a shock - he'd known this all along, hadn't he? It was why he'd told Yassen he'd kill him one day. It was why he got involved with MI6 in the first place.

But there it was, the memory of the car seat riddled with bullet holes hitting him about as gently as a cricket bat to the head.

Somewhere along the line he'd stopped thinking of Yassen as a ruthless assassin, as someone who could turn around and betray him at any second. Which was incredibly stupid, because who knew what the Russian really thought of Alex or why he'd saved him and dragged him along to this place? Maybe he had already called his Scorpia contacts and was just waiting for someone to come and pick Alex up. Maybe the cough medicine the man had given him was some kind of drug to make him drowsy and compliant. Maybe this was all some elaborate scheme to get revenge for getting Yassen shot.

Okay, no, that was ridiculous.

Alex groaned and turned onto his stomach, pulling the blanket over his head. This was all just so... It didn't make any sense! Why was Yassen helping him? If it really was because of some kind of imaginary debt to his father, why did that qualify him, Alex, to be worth saving but apparently it was fine to assassinate John's brother? What the hell was that man thinking?

And then the way he was acting! As if it was completely acceptable to screw up a job in order to save some kid! As if it was the most logical thing in the world to take care of a boy who's uncle he had murdered. Why would Yassen do ? It sure as hell wasn't out of guilt, that much was obvious.

The teen threw the blanket off with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. Fact was that none of his interactions with Yassen had ever really made any sense. Why had the Russian tried to give him a way out over and over again during that mess with Cray? Why had he agreed to come and get Alex out from under that bridge before he froze to death? Why... did Alex himself often behave as if they were much more familiar with each other than they actually were? There was so much convoluted history and unsaid things between them, it left the teen with no idea of where they really stood. The only thing he could say for sure was that they felt much too... close, considering all that had happened.

Yassen had killed his uncle. Alex wasn't supposed to feel safe with him.

There was a knock on the door. "Alex?"

Automatically, the teen scrambled to sit upright and scooted to the edge of the bed while the door opened and the Russian he'd been thinking about for the past half hour stepped into the room. "Yes?"

The man looked him over as if weighing him up for a moment, then stated, "I'm going out for a while. Do you need anything?"

That was exactly what Alex had just been thinking about! Without much thought, the spy snapped, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

The Russian seemed faintly surprised for a few seconds before his mouth quirked into a wry smile. "Would you prefer it if I locked you up for a while?"

Making an inarticulate noise, Alex threw up his hands. "There! You are smiling at me! Why are you smiling at me?"

Yassen's face smoothed out into a bland expression, but his eyes definitely still looked amused. "I assume this means you don't want anything?"

Giving a frustrated huff, Alex let his shoulders slump down. "I could really use a toothbrush. But I'm serious. Why are you helping me?" He had to force himself to meet Yassen's eyes. "Is it because of my father?"

The Russian gave him another measuring gaze, more wary than before, and inclined his head. "John was a very good friend."

"But that didn't stop you from killing his brother," the teen pointed out bitterly.

The way Yassen hesitated made it obvious that he wasn't exactly prepared for or happy about this line of questioning, but Alex felt like the not-knowing was driving him crazy. He stayed silent and waited for an answer, refusing to let the man off the hook.

Finally, Yassen seemed to settle on something, his face cold and closed-off once more. "Agent Rider was working for the opposition and knew the risks when he accept his assignment. I apologize for your personal loss, but I do not apologize for doing my job."

Which... was more and less than he had expected. There was an apology in there - but on the same breath there was the confirmation that the Russian didn't feel the least bit sorry for what he'd done. And Alex... Alex didn't know what to think. He'd thought hearing any of this would help him clear up some of the tangled mess his feelings were, but it didn't. Not in the slightest.

The beginnings of yet another headache throbbed in the back of his skull and in an effort to stop thinking about everything that confused him he latched onto the only part of the man's statement he could actually react to.

"I'm working for the other side too and maybe I didn't at the start, but I do know the risks by now." His arms slipped over his stomach as if hugging himself, pressing down on the empty feeling low in his belly. He made himself meet Yassen's eyes, needing to see if there was any reaction when he asked his question. "So why aren't you doing your job? How is this any different?"

The Russian shook his head, a tight, pinched look to the corners of his eyes. "You do not know how ugly this business can get."

To that, he teen snorted in derision. "Right, because I haven't been involved with murderers and maniacs for the last nine months. I bet it's completely normal that I can tell apart the sound of bones breaking from branches snapping as easily as I can dismantle and reassemble a gun. I don't know what I was worried about, I fit right in with all the other kids my age, don't I?"

Yassen was tense where he stood in the middle of the room, something dark behind the façade of his mostly blank face. It wasn't difficult to guess that he didn't like what Alex was telling him. Though when the assassin spoke it was slow and measured, as though he had come to a decision; the way he watched the teen had changed. "There are still many things you do not know. For example..."

He started coming closer and all of a sudden something was different, violence oozing off his every move. Alex felt his heart skip a beat and instinctively he stood up and stepped to the side so that he didn't have the bed at his back.

Seeing this, Yassen smiled, grim and menacing in a way the teen hadn't even known was possible until then. "You believe you are safe from me simply because I helped you once." He stalked closer, a hunter closing in on his prey, and Alex just kept backing away, caught too off guard to form a single thought beyond blank surprise and intimidation.

"You believe because I say I do not kill children I have never done it before," the Russian continued, suddenly right there and Alex found himself with his back pressed to the wall, his heart beating a mile a minute, eyes wide. "You believe you have seen the worst of what humans are capable of when in truth you have no idea."

Alex couldn't speak, could hardly even breathe past the adrenaline flooding his system in a mad rush. Yassen was practically towering over him, a stark reminder of how much bigger and just plain stronger than him the assassin was and there was no way Alex could fight him. Just... no way. He might as well put a gun to his temple and pull the trigger himself, the result would be about the same.

Two fists settled left and right of the teen's head and if possible he pushed himself even harder against the wall. Yassen leaned forward, reducing the space between them to a few inches at most. "Do you think killing or raping you a couple of times is the worst anyone could do to you?"

He had thought that, but now he was starting to doubt it.

The Russian's right hand slipped into Alex's hair and the teen flinched away, the motion stopped abruptly when Yassen's grip tightened. His head was yanked up and he was forced to meet the assassin's eyes, the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach growing all the worse as he saw the cold intention in the other's gaze.

"You are pretty enough for a boy," and maybe it sounded like a compliment but it made Alex shiver down to his bones with terror. "It would be ridiculously easy to find some people over in the East, maybe in South America, to sell you to. It would be just as easy for me to break your neck right this second." The hand in his hair gripped even tighter, forcing him to bare his throat. "You wanted me to do my job, didn't you?"

Yes. No. Maybe. He didn't even know what he had wanted, what had made him push for more and more answers. And it didn't matter anymore either because Yassen was going to kill him, was pulling the teen's head just that little bit farther back in preparation, his breathing low and controlled. With the Russian's strength a sharp yank and twist would be enough. One clean snap and that was it. Quick, easy. Alex would be dead before he hit the ground. No more narrow escapes for him, no more hugs from Jack, no more getting in trouble or riding his bike or laughing or breathing.

[No more fighting. No more pain.]

Exhaling a shuddering breath, he made himself relax into the assassin's grip.

Several seconds passed in tense silence before slowly, carefully, the tight hold on his hair eased. Then the hand fell away completely. "You never react the way I expect you to."

His eyes snapped open - he hadn't realized he'd closed them - to find Yassen looking at him with an odd expression on his face, still very close. Alex blinked slowly, thought that he should feel something, react somehow, but it was like a heavy blanket had settled over all his senses. He couldn't feel anything but the phantom sensation of the hand gripping his hair, about to break his neck. "Sorry."

The Russian shook his head and stepped away, his lips starting to form words he never spoke out loud. Alex didn't much care. He suddenly became aware that his legs felt like overcooked spaghetti and he let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, legs tucked up to his chest and arms crossed on his knees. Adrenaline was still pounding through his veins, his heart beating so hard and fast he could feel it with his whole body. He couldn't quite believe he was alive.

"Alex." Yassen had crouched down a good three steps away and was watching the teen carefully.

Alex watched right back, tried to force his breathing to even out a little. He'd almost died just now. Maybe if he had reacted a little differently he'd have... And just to prove a point. Yassen would have done it. Just to try to make Alex see... He swallowed dryly, had to try twice to make his voice heard over his sore throat. "I get it, you know?"

The Russian's brow furrowed but he didn't answer, just waited.

"I know that I've been lucky so far," he continued haltingly. "And that my luck's going to run out sooner or later. But what do you want me to do?"

"You could leave," Yassen suggested quietly, his voice surprisingly calm, soothing.

"And go where? With whom?" he asked right back, knowing there was no possible answer to that. He shook his head, mind flashing back to another question that had been asked today. "You wanted to know if there's anyone besides MI6 to take over my guardianship."

The Russian nodded once, his frown deepening. Alex wondered whether Yassen regretted the chain of events that had led to this moment. Wondered if that even mattered.

"There's only Jack. She was our housekeeper, now she's my acting guardian. But the way I understood it MI6 can take that away as easily as they assigned it." And if he was honest with himself he didn't want to ask Jack. She was involved enough as it was, he couldn't bring even more trouble down on her head.

"She's the only one I have and she can't get me out of this. I wish she could but she can't. They're not going to let me go, I told you they've got too much blackmail on me, it doesn't matter what I want or do or..." He ran out of words, shook his head. It didn't matter how much he knew of the world and all its monsters masquerading as people. It wasn't him being naive or too stubborn to take an uncomfortable option that was the problem, it was the simple fact that he couldn't run. And Yassen could scare him as much as he wanted and that still wouldn't change.

The Russian's voice broke into this thoughts, his words careful, almost hesitant, "As far as I know there is someone who could have the means to get you away from your...employers. Have you ever met your godfather?"

Knowing his face showed his surprise, Alex wondered just how much the man knew about him. He himself had only found out about his godfather a couple of weeks ago. "You mean Ash."

"Yes," Yassen confirmed. "He should be able to help you."

"Unlikely," the teen stated blankly. "He's dead."

Apparently, that was complete news to the assassin. The line between Yassen's brows deepened, the beginnings of dismay starting to show themselves on his face. "That is unfortunate."

Alex shook his head, a bitter twist to his mouth as he thought of the man. "That's good riddance, you mean."

His reaction had surprised, even startled the Russian. "Explain," he demanded.

Letting his breath out in a long sigh Alex let his head tip back so that it rested against the wall, his eyes directed up at the ceiling. Should he explain? About Ash, his father, Mdina, everything? That was why he had come here, wasn't it? The reason he had asked for a way to contact Yassen, back at that party.

He had waited, hesitated, this long because he'd been afraid of the way the assassin would react but really, what was the worst he could do? Hit Alex? Kill him? Frankly, Alex just didn't care anymore. Maybe any other day he would have, but today, right now... no. He caught Yassen's gaze from beneath his lashes.

"After what you told me I searched for Scorpia. I found them. Joined them for a while." That was a good beginning, wasn't it? The assassin seemed to think so, from the way his eyes narrowed with interest. "It ended with them trying to kill me along with a couple thousand other kids in England. They failed. Julia Rothman died, I got shot. You've seen the scar." He paused for a moment, tried to bring the facts into some kind of order.

"My father was a double agent. That's why Scorpia tried to kill me. The whole thing was a deep cover mission, he never stopped working for MI6. Mdina was a set-up and Albert Bridge a fake." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Yassen was staring at him, eyes sharp and face blank. He didn't believe Alex. "After Albert Bridge my dad wanted out. He quit working for MI6 and wanted to start over with my mother and me in France. Ash sold him out to Scorpia because the mess in Mdina had gotten him demoted. It was Ash who blew up the plane they were on. I wasn't there 'cause I had an ear infection and couldn't travel."

He stopped and found that he couldn't go on. He'd never tried to explain before, never had to say it out loud. Alex closed his eyes and tried to breathe past the heavy weight lodged in his chest.

But even so he could still feel Yassen's stare burning into him.

"Who told you that?" The man's voice was eerily calm.

Alex shrugged, shook his head. "Julia Rothman. Mrs. Jones. James Adair. Blunt. Winston Yu. Ash himself. Different parts of the story from different people until I had it all together."

He made himself look at Yassen again. The man was pale, his expression frozen in blankness, but his eyes... He didn't want to believe Alex. He didn't want it to be true. The teen understood the feeling very well.

Slowly, the Russian stated, "You... are sure of this." To Alex, it sounded more like a plea for him to admit that it was all just some mad theory he had cobbled together himself.

He nodded once, tried to convey with his expression how very serious he was about this. "It's true. Ash himself told me he killed them shortly before he died. He also sold me out to Scorpia and would have happily let them harvest me for organs." He grimaced briefly. "It's too big and too many people have tried to hide it for it to be a lie. My father was an MI6 agent."

[John lied to you.]

For the first time Yassen looked away from him, stared at the floor to his feet. Alex wished he had some idea about what the man was thinking, how he was taking all this, but it was as if a wall had risen up out of nowhere and he was as clueless and unable to get the slightest hint as the first time they'd met. It left him feeling cold.

The worst thing about it all was that if John had really been as important to Yassen as it appeared then he could actually imagine some of what the Russian had to be going through at the moment. The hurt, the disbelief, the desperate search for an explanation, any explanation that meant you hadn't really been deceived by someone so important to you. And the helplessness when you realized that it didn't matter whether you were angry, confused or hurt, that the person those feelings were directed at was gone and despite being betrayed that was still worse than everything else. It was unfair, left you reeling, doubting how much between you had ever been real.

[Ian.]

Alex made himself look away from the man's face and focused on the little glimpse of blue sky he could see past the mostly-drawn curtains. He had hated how the people around him had stared at him during moments like this; as if they were only waiting for him to break down crying or start an angry rant or something. As if he'd ever give them the satisfaction.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Yassen moving. He was standing up out of his crouch, slowly, as if a weight was pushing down on his shoulders. Alex was careful not to glance at his face; if the Russian had decided that anger was his response of choice and the teen a good target to take it out on then he didn't want to know for as long as possible.

But Yassen did nothing of the sort; just stood there, still as a statue, and Alex knew the man was watching him. What did he want? Was he expecting some kind of reaction from the teen, an apology, an explanation? Alex had nothing.

A long tense minute passed in silence. Then Yassen turned away and left; the room, a moment later the flat, probably the building. Maybe he'd even leave the city.

Alex continued watching the little gap between curtains and wall. The sky outside was blue.