AN. Unfortunately, I don't own any of the character in Alex Rider. If I did, I would be very rich…

Chapter 1

The phone rang.

Different to normal phones, the ring sounded quiet and soft, but that was because there was a crying three-year-old in the back ground, the sound of a kids TV programme coming from the lounge and the barking of a dog in the garden. All in all it was a rather normal household. But this was no normal phone call.

May McMillan picked up the phone in one hand, holding her screaming daughter in her other arm. "Hello?" She answered, sounding stressed from the general mayhem of her home.

"Good afternoon, Mrs McMillan." the nameless voice on the other end of the phone greeted her, "Could I speak to your husband?" though May McMillan had heard this voice many times, it was always nameless. She knew her husband would never share the women's name. David told her too much as it was.

"Yes." May replied, as she always did when she received this kind of phone call.

She knew not to expect a thank you. There wouldn't be one. There never was. All she had to do now was call her husband.

"David!" she called upstairs to her husband's office. His job was dangerous, and protected by the Official Secrets Act. It was bad enough May knowing some of the things her husband had done while he was at work. They couldn't risk the kids finding out. They were too young.

"David!" the child clinging to her side began to wail louder than ever. May hoped the ungrateful woman at the other end of the phone could hear the disruption she was causing. Not that she'd care of course. If she was anything like the staff that David had told her about, then she had no care for the well-being of their employees, or their family for that matter. Sometimes, David would go to work and not get in touch for a week. May would be beside herself with worry, but the firm never bothered to inform her or what was going on. Why should they? She was only his wife. She wondered if they'd get in touch if she was no longer his wife: if she was his next of kin…

"David!" May yelled, irritated now. Fine, she accepted what her husband did for a living (it didn't mean she liked it, but she could put up with it), but not when she was waiting for him to pick up a mysterious phone call.

Finally, David, a muscular six foot two man ran down the stairs. His auburn hair was ruffled, which meant he'd been running his hands through it subconsciously while he was working. That was always a sign of him becoming stressed.

May handed the phone over, scowling. David tried to cheer her up by giving her his sweetest grin - the sort that would normally get him anything he wanted - but she just turned away with his youngest child and went back into the lounge.

"Hello." David said into the phone.

"Good afternoon Mr McMillan. There's something come up…"

Those four words always sent a shiver down David's spine. They could mean anything. It could mean that they wanted to send him to some farfetched country across the globe to locate the source of a bomb that could potentially blow up the Earth. It could mean his private details had been stolen by some terrorist organization and they'd be arriving at his house any minute. It could mean one of his team mates had been injured. It could mean anything…

"Yes, ma'am?" David answered.

"There has been a situation involving one of our underage operatives." One of our underage operatives? David thought, how many did they have? "Alex Rider, an employee of ours, has been injured in a domestic accident while living alone, something we were not aware of. He should never have been left alone in the first place, but beside the point, he has sustained an injury which means he will find it difficult to look after himself in the coming days. We were hoping to put him in your temporary care."

At first, Snake couldn't find any words. He knew there was at least one underage operative working for MI6: they'd trained together, more than a year ago. Snake wondered if it was the person. Deciding not to say this, David began questioning the technicalities, "How long is temporary?"

Mrs Jones, on the other end of the phone, sighed, "Until his previous guardian returns to the country."

"When is that? Why are they out of the country?" David pressed on.

"Contact with her has been unsuccessful on several occasions. I cannot give you a definite time period. Might that be a problem?" Mrs Jones asked. David McMillan knew that it couldn't be a problem. He had to do what he was asked when he was asked, even if it meant looking after some kid he might not have ever met before.

"No, ma'am." David said, trying not to sound too reluctant. In all truth, he didn't really mind. If this kid had been left on their own and they'd had an accident they clearly couldn't be expected to look after themselves for God knows how long. Why had they even been left alone in the first place?

David had had a very sheltered childhood. Living in Edinburgh with his family, to whom he was very close, until he was eighteen. That's when he joined the army. He couldn't understand why this so called guardian had left their ward alone.

"Do I need to pick them up?" The words sounded strange coming out of his mouth. Why was he doing this? What would May say? Would she kill him? They had a spare room, and, if this kid really did work for MI6, then he should be able to do most things for themselves. Actually, if they were injured that might not be the case.

"Yes. They are currently at St Dominic's hospital in London. Ask for Alex Rider at the reception desk. Within the next hour, Mr McMillan." Mrs Jones told him.

"Of course, ma'am." David answered without hesitation.

Earlier, Alex had pulled on his coat, wincing, trying not to dislodge any of the broken glass currently sticking out of his palm. There was a lot of blood. Alex had seen more blood than this, much more in fact, but it was different when it was pouring out his him. And, besides, he hadn't expected to bleed so much. He began to wonder if any of the glass had hit a main artery or vein. He knew not to pull it out, but he was considering wrapping a tea towel around his hand to try and staunch the blood flow.

In the end, he didn't bother. He knew he was just over-reacting. At the hospital, they would pull the glass out and send him straight back home again. It would be nothing.

The problem was, getting to the hospital. He couldn't cycle, not with his right hand acting as a pin cushion. He didn't want to go on any public transport either - he didn't want that sort of attention. He could call a cab, but then there was the matter of money. Or the lack of it.

He'd have to walk.

It wasn't such a big deal, Alex decided, locking the front door. Walking would take his mind of the pain.

When he had finally finished locking the door, realising how hard it was to do things with only one working hand, he walked down the steps and along the road that would take him towards St. Dominic's. This was the hospital that MI6 had always sent Alex to before. He assumed they'd have his records. The only problem would be, when he signed in at the front desk, would MI6 know?

Alex didn't care. All he wanted now was someone to take this glass out of his hand and send him home, like the unimportant schoolboy he was. He raised his injured hand to his shoulder, knowing the blood would have to work against gravity. He hoped it would slow the blood flow, but already he could feel the warm liquid dripping down his skin. It made him feel slightly sick.

In all truth, he was quite embarrassed that he'd managed to hurt himself at home while Jack was away. Jack had gone to America for God knows how long. She said she had family problems, and hoped she'd be back within the month, but she wasn't sure. She wouldn't tell Alex what was wrong before boarded the plane at the airport, looking thoroughly dejected.

That had been a week ago. Since then, Alex had only heard from her once. She'd rung to say that she'd arrived ok and she was just waiting for them to pick her up from the airport. She hadn't sounded like Jack, but Alex hadn't wanted to say anything. He didn't know what was wrong and he didn't want to make things worse for her. If she wanted to, she'd tell Alex in her own time. Alex wasn't going to press her for information.

People were giving Alex funny looks. His hand on his shoulder and a tight grimace on his face. He probably did look a sight, but still people should have known better than to stare. He felt self-conscious and avoided everyone's eyes.

Finally, he reached the hospital. Here, people couldn't stare, because in the A&E department, he didn't look much out of place.

He went to the front desk, thankful there wasn't a queue, and asked to see a doctor.

After looking at him, his pale face and the way he was hunched over his hand, the receptionist called a doctor over.

The doctor took one look at Alex before deciding it might be necessary to take him to a cubicle. He touched Alex's back lightly and walked him forwards. "I'm Dr John. What's your name?"

"I'm Alex." Alex replied, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. "Alright, Alex. I'm going to take a look at your hand, check that there's no serious damage. Then I'll get a nurse to take the glass out. How did you did it?"

They reached the cubicle and the Doctor sat Alex down on the bed. "I slipped when I was holding a glass." Dr John gave him a funny look, but didn't say anything.

"How old are you, Alex?" He asked.

"Fourteen." Alex replied bluntly.

"Any allergies you know of?"

"Penicillin." Alex replied.

"Alright, then." The doctor took Alex's hand in his own. Alex winced. "Sorry." The doctor murmured examining Alex's hand and wrist. Alex felt slightly sick. There was a lot of blood.

"You're very lucky." Dr John told him, "You see that?" He pointed at a vein in Alex's wrist which was dangerously close to a shard of glass, "If that had been ruptured, you would have lost more than double what you have done. I'm going to give you some pain killers for when the nurse removes the glass. You won't need any saline, I don't think."

"I don't want pain killers." Alex replied quickly.

"Are you sure? This will be very painful. And more damage can be done if you move while we try and take the glass out."

"I don't want pain killers." Alex repeated more firmly this time. He was sick of feeling weak. The nightmares, they made him feel like a little kid and it was driving him mad. If he could get some power over the situation he would feel much better.

"If you're sure." the Doctor, agreed reluctantly. It was strange for a fourteen year old kid to refuse medication. Of course, Dr John could call the parents in: they could consent for the administration of the pain killers, but Alex probably wanted the glass out of his hand sooner, rather than later.

The nurse was still taking bits of glass out of his hand when there was a knock at the door. Alex instinctively looked up at the sudden noise. It wasn't a doctor - a doctor wouldn't knock. Perhaps it would be Mr Blunt. No, Alex wasn't important enough for Blunt to come and see him. Mrs Jones, perhaps. Or Crawley, maybe.

Without being invited in, the visitor opened the door. It wasn't any of those three.

It was Snake.

Alex tried not to look surprised, knowing Snake would be playing some sort of cover role - so the nurse didn't look get suspicious. "Hey Alex." the Scottish man addressed Alex first, then turned to the nurse, "Sorry to interrupt. I'm Alex's social worker. David Essex." Alex was pretty sure this wasn't Snake's real name. But a name he'd chosen on the spot, so his identity wasn't at risk. "I would shake your hand, but I can see you're busy." Snake added, giving a wry smile. All the time Alex had spent with Snake at Brecon Beacons, not once had he seen Snake smile like that. The only time Alex had seen Snake smile was when he'd been about to do something horrible to Alex: and then, the smile had been malicious.

The nurse didn't return the smile. "Were you aware that Alex had been left alone?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not. We don't have enough time to be in contact with our kids twenty-four seven." Snake sounded almost sarcastic, "I saw Alex on Tuesday, at school, and he didn't mention any problems. I can assure you any problems between him and his carer will be sorted promptly."

The nurse tutted at this, but said nothing.

Alex didn't take his eyes off Snake as he leant against the wall and waited for Alex's hands to be dressed. They didn't speak to each other. There was nothing they could say until they were out of here and away from people.

Alex was discharged about an hour and a half after he had been admitted into the hospital's A&E. All-in-all, it had been a good turn around. Alex had looked pretty grim when he'd turned up there, but he was pretty sure that MI6 had also got involved to make sure he was in and out within a certain time. They didn't need one of their underage operatives hanging round in a hospital. And he guessed that was why Snake was here: to make sure he went straight home.

Alex followed Snake out of the hospital into the car park. They'd still not spoken to each other. They didn't speak until they'd both climbed into the car (Snake had had to open to the door for Alex, as he had no grip) and both doors were closed.

"You don't mind if I call you Alex, do you?" Snake asked, getting to the point. "My kids don't know about my job. Code names are going to make things awkward."

"Why would that matter?" Alex asked, regretting how cold he sounded as he said it.

"Sorry." Snake didn't seem to mind, "I should have explained. You'll be living with me and my family for a while, until your guardian comes back."

Alex just stared at him. It was a gaze that said: are you serious?

"Look, I know this isn't going to be great for either of us. What I did at Beacons was cruel and that's going to make this difficult, but if it has to work out like this, I want you to let me make it up to you?" Alex wondered if that was an apology in Snake's eyes. Out of the four men Alex had had dealings with Beacons, Snake had been the nicest (even if he hadn't really been nice at all), Alex would have thought he knew how to apologise.

"Is it ok if I call you Alex?" Snake repeated. Alex just nodded. "Ok. That's a start. I'm David. David McMillan."

Alex said nothing to that and Snake started the car. He back out of the parking space with ease and drove towards the exit. Saying this was difficult, Alex was thought, was an understatement: this was going to be Hell.

The journey back to Snake's house was quiet and uneventful. Alex didn't say a word. To the few questions Snake asked ('Do you mind if I put the radio on?', 'Do you need pain killers for your hands?' and 'Do you mind if I open the window?'), he just shook his head.

Snake had known from the moment he'd realised that Alex Rider was Cub this was going to hard, but he hadn't realised exactly how hard. He realised from the journey home that Alex was uncomfortable in his presence. The way he sat hunched in the car would tell anyone that, but Snake, a highly-trained SAS soldier could tell that Alex was tensed, ready for action if he needed to be. It worried him that Alex felt that was necessary.

They pulled onto the drive. "Alex," Snake said, softly, "You need to try and trust me." Snake thought about adding how hard he knew it was going to be, but he didn't. He didn't want to patronize the kid.

"I can't promise anything." Alex admitted, not looking up.

"But you'll try?" Snake clarified.

Alex nodded. That was fair enough, Snake thought. There was no way Alex could force himself to trust someone: it was something that came from inside. If Alex was here long enough, Snake hoped Alex would grow to trust him. He could do no more than that.

"Just as a heads up," Snake began - this made Alex look up. Snake inwardly laughed, "There's a three-year-old, a six-year-old and a nine-year-old in that house. And my wife. It's a bit hectic in there sometimes." Alex gave a curt nod and followed Snake in getting out of the car.

As soon as Snake opened the door, Alex heard nose from within the house. There was a shout of "Daddy!", then the sound of running, then a thud and then someone crying.

Of the three children Snake had mentioned, only two made it to the door. They wrapped their arms around their dad's legs. Snake lifted one of them up (a girl - the six-year-old, Alex assumed) with one arm and guided the boy (the nine-year-old) back into the house. Alex lingered on the door step.

After a moment, a woman came into the hallway holding another child. The three-year-old was still sniffing.

"Come in, Alex." The woman said. Her voice was kind and sort of calming, especially after seeing the kids run at Snake. Snake closed the door behind him.

If Alex had been any other boy, he'd have wondered where he was going to sleep; if he'd have to share a room with the kids; what he was going to do about a toothbrush this evening; what they were going to have for tea… But he wasn't thinking any of that. The first thing his trained mind went to was an escape route. Right now, the front door was the only exit he'd come across. That, even though logic told him there were other ways out, worried him.

He felt self-conscious as the hall went silent. Everyone was looking at him. All Alex could do was glance at Snake helplessly.

"Everybody, this is Alex. Alex is going to be staying with us for a while." Alex attempted a smile, still worrying about how he would get out if he needed to, "Alex, this is my wife, May." the woman gave Alex an encouraging smile, "and my children, Elliot," he gestured to the oldest boy, "Emily," the girl, "and Jacob." the younger boy. May made the youngest child wave at Alex. Emily laughed. Alex still said nothing.

May was the first to speak, breaking the silence, "How about we let Daddy help Alex settle in?" she suggested, "Tracey Beaker will be on soon." she told the kids. Alex wasn't sure whether the first or second part had persuaded them to go back into the lounge.

"Things will get easier." Snake promised, "We'll get used to each other." Alex nodded, but Snake saw his discomfort. "Do you want a tour of the house?" he asked. This told Alex he understood.

"Yes, please." Alex replied, his voice rising a little from the monotone that he'd been speaking with for the past hour.

The tour of the house ended with what was to be Alex's room. There were some boxes in the corner, which Snake said he'd move before this evening, and a bed, but that was it. To be honest, it was all Alex needed. He didn't plan on being here long.

He wanted to leave in the morning: he'd go and see Blunt at Liverpool Street and tell him he didn't need this, but realistically, Alex knew he couldn't do that. His hands were going to stop him from doing anything by himself for the next week, at least: there was no way he'd be able to look after himself. Right now, the best plan was to stay put until he had full use of his hands.

"We can paint it for you." Snake was saying, "And I don't mind you putting posters and stuff up. I want you to feel at home. Alex, are you ok?" he finished when he realised Alex hadn't spoken for a while.

"Yeah." Alex tried to smile, "Fine."

"Erm… So do you wanna meet the kids properly? Or do you want a bit of space? I really don't mind…" Snake trailed off. He was really trying, but in truth he was finding this as hard as Alex was.

"I'm sorry." Alex said suddenly.

"What for?" Snake looked up from his shoes, sort of shocked.

"For messing things up. For falling and hurting my hands and ending up here. You'd be better off without me here."

"Alex," Snake said, "Shut up."

They both grinned.

"As long as I'm not imposing, I'll come and meet everyone properly." Alex said.

Snake smiled. The ice had only just been scratched, but it was a start.