A.N. It's that time of year again! For the prompt: "An SAS soldier meets the animal he was named after." And you get two in one! Hopefully that makes up for the fact that I accidentally kind of rewrote Puppy Dog Eyes. Oops?

Disclaimers and warnings: The author is neither a doctor nor a vet, and suggests calling real professionals instead of ever doing anything that Alex does. Warnings for injury where the author has used a little google and a lot of creative license. The author does not own Alex Rider (see: Anthony Horowitz). The author is talking about herself in the third person, and should probably stop and let you get on with reading the fic.

Enjoy!

The sun had almost set, but it painted a final pink wash over Liverpool as a parting gift. Alex, stumbling as dark spots threatened his vision, was too dizzy to appreciate it.

"God, Cub, for someone so small you weigh too damn much," Fox complained, tightening the arm round Alex's waist. To the casual observer it would look like he was supporting a drunk friend, the bloodstain spreading from where Ben kept his hand firmly pressing down hidden by the kid's jacket and dark clothes.

"The weight of all my crushed dreams," Alex snarked back, the effect lost because of the way his speech slurred. "Also, muscle is heavier than fat. Also, you're jus' unfit."

"Oh, shut up," Ben said without heat. "If I was unfit, I'd have been sacked. Now hang in there just a little longer, I live at the end of this road."

The pain Alex was present in his pinched expression, but he blinked a few times to clear his head and managed to walk the next few steps without being such a deadweight. Ben made the most of it, anxious to get back, cursing everyone that could be to blame for this from the rogue Triad member seeking revenge, to Alex for being such a reckless idiot, to Alan Blunt. Because it was always Blunt's fault.

Ben was too focused on the kid to pay attention to their surroundings, but Alex was a little more lucid than he had been a moment ago, and apparently his superspy senses still worked even when he was dizzy from blood loss, so it was he who noticed the dark shape whimpering at the side of the road.

"Hey, wai' a moment," he said. "There's something there."

"Just an animal," Ben said impatiently. "It's been run over already, nothing we can do."

"Bu' it's alive," Alex protested.

"Yeah, and you won't be much longer if you don't hurry up."

"It's so small, though." Alex shuffled over to get a closer look despite Ben's nudges to keep going. "It's only a baby, Fox. Wai', no, it's only a baby fox."

"I've already got one injured stray to take home, I can't manage two."

"Please, we can't jus' leave it."

"Alex," Ben said desperately, growing more anxious with every second.

"Ben."

"Dammit, fine. Keep putting pressure on that," Ben said, guiding Alex's hands to the wound. He tugged off his jacket and bundled up the fox cub as gently as he could. Then he worked out how to manoeuvre the three of them, as if it hadn't been hard enough before - but Alex was moving again, at least. They made it through the door without further issue. Ben deposited both his patients on the couch and grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen, keeping up a steady stream of complaints.

"You should really go to an actual doctor, you know," he said. "I am definitely not qualified to deal with this. You probably need a blood transfusion. You're gonna get an infection, letting me stitch you up on my dirty couch with that filthy animal right there." He glanced at the fox, but had to turn his glare back to Alex before he was forced to admit how cute it was. "All my grey hair is because of you."

"You don't have any," Alex mumbled.

"Yeah, well, I will soon. All your fault. And Alan Blunt's. God, I hope you're terrified of needles."

He never found out, because between exhaustion and the pain of the antiseptic Ben used to clean the wound, Alex slipped into the arms of merciful sleep.

It was dark when he awoke, his discomfort fighting against his need to rest and winning. His side throbbed with no adrenaline to distract him from the pain and he spent a minute blinking at the ceiling, trying to work up enough energy to move and orienting himself in the unfamiliar setting.

There had been a chase. A member of Big Circle, going against the agreement to leave Alex alone because his brother had in fact lost fingers to frostbite when he was locked in the deep freeze (and wasn't that a lovely thought to dwell on, the guard might have tried to kill him but Alex's callous dismissal made him sick to think of it now). He had fled from London to Liverpool but was found anyway, and there was a knife fight where he had ended up with a long gash across his side, and although it wasn't the deep stab wound to the stomach the man had been aiming for it still bled like crazy.

He knocked the guy out and then called Ben. If he were in London he could've gone to St Dominic's, but if he turned up in the A&E of an NHS hospital with a knife wound he'd have to deal with questions he couldn't answer.

(Ben had wanted to take him anyway, and let MI6 deal with the fallout, but Alex was stubborn and every minute spent arguing was another minute he spent bleeding out, so Ben agreed to treat him at home because he only lived a few streets away.)

Remembering just whose couch he was lying on, Alex turned his head, taking in the rest of the room. Ben was curled up in the armchair opposite, nursing a mug of coffee and scrolling through his phone. The only light came from the glowing screen and a desk lamp, bent double so it wouldn't disturb Alex.

Ben looked up as he shifted and the dark circles under his eyes were plain to see.

"Lie still," he admonished, when Alex starting trying to sit up. "You don't want to put any strain on those stitches, I can't promise they'll hold - Snake was always better at this side of things."

Alex tried to look down at his side the best he could by only moving his head, but the wound was concealed under white gauze bandages.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Just gone midnight. I called MI6 and they're sending an ambulance to bring you to St Dom's, it should be here soon but it's a stupidly long drive, I swear they should've let you go to the hospital here, their secrets aren't worth endangering your health-"

"Ben, I'm fine," Alex said, voice too raspy to be convincing. "How's the fox? You'd better not have abandoned it again."

"You're changing the subject," Ben said, but he glanced down and Alex followed his gaze. The cub was curled up, asleep in his lap. "It's not too badly injured. I gave it some water and I'm calling the RSPCA as soon as you're out of here."

Alex gave him a weak smile. "Thanks for taking care of it."

"Yeah, well," Ben said, "if it grows up to kill all Mrs Muller's chickens that'll be your fault."

"At least it will grow up."

"Maybe so. I still let you talk me into way too many poor decisions. I bet Wolf would've just left it there."

"'A fox is a wolf who sends flowers'. Ruth Brown said that."

"I've never sent flowers in my life," Ben protested.

"Maybe you should. Point is, you're allowed to be the nice one." Alex shifted his head again, trying to ease the ache in his neck. "Anyway, you totally wanted to help it anyway. You have a family connection, one Fox to another."

"I don't know about that," Ben said. "Maybe I was just afraid that seeing another Cub so heartlessly abandoned would leave you emotionally traumatised."

Alex wished he could throw a cushion at the man, but as that was out of the question he settled for bantering back instead.

"Lots of animals have cubs, it's not like we're related. Face it, you've got the stronger link."

"Right, of course - you're a wolf cub, aren't you?"

Alex really did reach for the cushion that time, until Ben yelled at him to quit moving and do you want to tear those stitches? He settled back down obediently, wincing as his side throbbed and his head spun for a moment, and Ben's gaze softened as he stood and placed the fox back down on the chair without waking it and went to fetch Alex a glass of water.

The fox cub was forgotten about when the ambulance arrived. Ben hovered nearby as the paramedics checked Alex over and carried him out on a stretcher, trying to stay out of the way but too anxious to let the kid leave his sight until they had driven round the corner.

When that was over, he wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep until noon, but then he remembered his other charge and used his phone to google 24 hour animal hotlines.

The cub whimpered in its sleep when Ben had ended the call. He settled back into the armchair and lifted the animal into his lap, resuming the position he had been in for hours while Alex was asleep and stroking the fox's head until it relaxed.

"Shh," he whispered into the dark, "you're safe here. I'll make sure you're taken care of."

He really hoped that was true, and this wasn't just another cub to whom he could only make empty promises.

Alex was getting closer to London with every minute that passed, with a gash in his side (just one injury in an endless series) and bosses armed with blackmail awaiting him, and Ben had never felt so helpless.