A/N – I know I haven't updated in forever. I wrote an extra long chapter to(attempt)to make it up ;)

I also have posted the trailer for this fanfic: w w w . y o u t u b e .com/watch?v=ugmDi-YhpBM -Type it in without the spaces ;)

It's a basic plot preview of this story. (John isn't included because I was having trouble with my clips of Aaron Eckheart, but if you like it, then I can do another trailer that includes him.)

Enjoy,

P.S- A "dark horse" is someone whose abilities are untested. (hint, hint)

Chapter 3: Dark Horse

Light was barely lingering around the trees. The time should be near dusk, but Alex could care less about the point in time he was caught in. All concentration went to the towering form above him, the same form that was half supporting, half carrying him through the darkening woods with unsurprising stealth.

"Alex." The man stopped his fast pace, glancing behind himself quickly, then back at the boy in his arms who was no longer limp, but still breathing unsteadily with brown eyes not even daring to blink in the presence of this stranger.

His eyes widened and he spoke, hardly above a whisper, "You're not real."

No reaction. John spoke, but not in return to Alex's words.

"Is your wound still bleeding much?"

"You. Are. Dead." He repeated, voice rising louder than before.

"You need to-"
It was the last thing Alex heard before going into blessed unconsciousness.

3 Weeks Ago

In the end, Alex realized that his savior was neither a ghost, nor a sign of insanity. He may have been borderline delirious, but Alex clearly remembered the first few moments with the legendary man that he had once been reduced to daydreaming about.

At one point in their trek, his father stopped and lifted Alex gently onto the frigid night ground. There were obviously no medical supplies to be found anywhere remotely near them, but John still managed to bandage his son's bullet wound quickly and competently with nothing more than a scrap of his own clothing.

Alex then cracked an eye open to cast a look at the obscure figure above him. Within an instant, he realized why Yassen had so easily known he was John Rider's son during their very first meeting. His father looked so much like him; or rather he looked like his father. They had the same fair hair, dark eyes, and set jaws. Even his barely restrained expression of distress was now worn upon the face of his older look-alike. If Alex had been but a few years older, they probably could have passed as a mirror and he now knew that he could never doubt the identity of his savior. It was indeed his father.

Another detail that he brought back to attention was the lingering expression on the older man's face. It was with a sense of panic that Alex never would have visualized his renowned spy father possessing. While he was still trying to sort it out, and before he could process what was happening, John had taken his son securely in his arms and just held him.

Any normal teenage boy would have been embarrassed by a hug from his father at such an age, but this was Alex Rider. He had never been hugged by his father before. In fact, he had stopped receiving both physical and verbal signs of parental affection from his uncle Ian as soon as Jack had arrived in the picture and began watching over him as little more than a toddler.

He heard his father speak, but the only words he paid attention to were 'my son'.

My son.

Alex internally shivered at the words. He had never heard those words before. Not directed towards him.

Suddenly, he was lifted again, and was carried through darkness, and then daylight. He couldn't imagine his father finding a taxi where they were (even though he wasn't sure where they even were) or hitchhiking, but he also vaguely recalled riding in a vehicle.

The rest of the journey was a whirlwind of nightmarish, blurred focus. All he now knew was that somehow he had ended up waking in a church of all places.

Beyond him, and below some worn and shattered stained glass windows, he saw his rescuer lying asleep on a rotting, wooden pew. John Rider's eyes were closed in fatigue, and out of all the descriptions Alex could have described, the first word that came to his mind was vulnerable.

As much as Alex despised admitting it, a significant portion of his subconscious mind now made him realize that all he wanted at that very moment was to feel the unfamiliar embrace of a father that John had given him just hours before.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Present Time

"Jack", Mrs. Jones acknowledged the other woman as she entered the lifeless hospital room.

Obviously avoiding her neatly folded bed, Jack Starbright was instead sitting in the arm chair beside it, only turning her gaze from the room's window in order to see Mrs. Jones.

"Ms. Starbright", the younger woman chipped back impatiently. The bouncy, blonde curls and kind face that had once made the American woman appear so even-tempered suddenly seemed less friendly. A dark, foreign emotion passed over Jack Starbright's face and even a fool could not have mistaken it.

Surprised, Mrs. Jones returned a frown. The usually buoyant woman had certainly fumed over MI6 using Alex, but her demeanor had never contained this level of…hatred.

"I apologize for the lateness of my realization Mrs. Jones, "Jack continued, standing up," I was never able to fully comprehend what you put Alex through, until I experienced it myself."

"Don't be ridiculous", Tulip Jones started, "The break in was not your fault."

Jack's face was hard when she spoke, "But it was. It's both of our faults. Your fault for ordering Alex on all of those missions", she breathed in painfully," and my fault…for letting him go."

"It won't happen again. MI6 is through with Alex. I want you to understand that." Mrs. Jones also wanted to say, "And Alan Blunt can't reach Alex through death". But she now knew that blaming the former MI6 head would no longer help her. The blame was hers and hers alone.

And, the very thought of the truth was unsettling in her gut.

Jack was up now. Her face was flusher, but not in illness. She was angry.

"I understand perfectly. I guess now that you've demolished the building, you expect it to build itself up again," she said.

"I'll make it up to Alex," Tulip Jones bit back quickly, and stopped in surprise. She had meant to say, 'we', as in MI6 and her, but for some reason it came out wrong.

Her tone didn't stop the other woman for an instant.

"Make. It. Up…?" She spat, "Why don't you work on finding him first? Or better yet, build a time machine and rewind to the time before he met you people."

"We'll find him, Jack. He won't come to any harm." Mrs. Jones gave her calmer tone its last chance.

It didn't work.

"He won't- How do you know he hasn't? Just look at what those men did to me? Do you think they'd hold back just because he's a kid?"

"I doubt they would", Tulip replied, in a painful honesty that came out sour on her lips. She thought it best not to mention Yassen Gregorovich at this point.

The other woman's hands were clenched at her sides now. Something inside Jack Starbright had snapped and oddly enough Tulip was suddenly afraid of the angry guardian, even though she stood a half a foot shorter and was several years younger than Tulip herself.

"If he doesn't come back in one piece…" Jack started, then hesitated for a moment before continuing,"…If he doesn't come back, Jones, the world will know about it. They'll know about him and what you put him through."

"You wouldn't-"

"I would do anything for him."

Tulip sighed. She felt like she had just lost someone that might have once, in another lifetime, been a friend.

"No one would believe you. You'd only be hurting your own reputation."

"Someone would believe me", Jack replied, completely certain of her own words.

So, this is how it will be. Forgive me, Alex.

"Ms. Starbright, I do believe that your visa has run out. In fact, I came here today to discuss the matter."

"You have no authority to-"Jack began.

"I have all of the authority, Ms. Starbright. In fact I have just been promoted in Alan Blunt's stead", she replied equally heated.

Jack's eyes widened but she didn't say anything. Maybe she had truly believed that Tulip would only go so far, or maybe she had registered the comment about Blunt's death.

Either way, the reality hit Mrs. Jones that she felt just as helpless in her new position as the last one. And, as she shut the door and made her way out of the hospital, she could hear Alan's awful voice mocking her from somewhere out of reach.

"Good luck on the job, Tulip."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The streets were not completely deserted, even on the particularly chilly day. Alex was thankful for that. He had been through enough social isolation in past events. There were still a few people milling about and going in and out the few open shops and restaurants.

A mother and father pushing their baby's stroller walked past him. The father was making faces, trying to make his son or daughter laugh. The mother was laughing at the father. The cold weather did not seem to affect them in the least.

Alex frowned against the wind, reminded of his own parent who was at an undisclosed location. He swore to himself and kicked at the ground. His father had come back to save him, only to leave him once again. Because he was, a child, "who shouldn't be involved in such dodgy business". Those had been his father's words. The father, who he had hoped might stand by his side and watch his back. Perhaps even sock it to MI6 for using him.

But certainly not treat him like an ignorant child. There were plenty of other people to treat him like that.

Alex sighed. John had been upset about Ian. You could have looked in his eyes and saw how completely brokenhearted the man was.

But then John had been angry. At MI6. And ironically enough, Alex actually felt frightened for Alan Blunt and whomever else that his father might come into contact with. His father had once pretended to be a killer, Alex reminded himself. And looking at the cool, contained blood-lust that John Rider displayed, it came as no surprise to how he had fooled Scorpia all of that time.

John had gone to look for information about MI6, among other things. Alex wasn't sure where he had went for this, as the legality of such a location was questionable at least, but he had left early that same morning, only dropping his expression to promise his son that he would return very quickly. But he had to leave Alex for his own protection.

Fortunately they had left the old church for an inexpensive hotel that didn't require much information from its occupants. And it was outside the hotel that Alex had decided to take a walk, not caring much about whether his newfound father would have approved of his still injured son taking a stroll out into the cold, open streets.

Alex thought about a lot of things while he was walking. A majority of them drew his mind back to Yassen and his father. Yassen had saved his life on more than one occasion, and the man had even supposedly taken a bullet for him. That was what he had seen, but now he was not sure of anything as people seemed to be rising from their graves everywhere he looked.

He could only hope that Jack had also survived her ordeal. The sound of her piercing scream was the last he had heard, and he doubted that his former captors would have left a witness.

A headache was forming in the back of his head and Alex was unsure if it was because of the cold, his racing thoughts, or both. Deciding quickly, he changed his course to head to a close by convenience store. He didn't want to fight a migraine on top of everything else. A pain reliever might do him well and give some relief, if only a little.

Alex could not have foreseen how wrong he was about the relief part.

There was a clean cut, middle aged man looking over a newspaper as he walked in to the small, but efficient store. A teenage girl was at the cash register. She looked to be near his own age and when he walked in she met his eyes and smiled. Alex turned his head from her though. He wasn't quite ready for that much socialization. Not yet.

Everything was fine at first. Alex scoured an aisle to find something to fight his now persisting migraine.

Then something went wrong.

He should have expected it. It's not like there at ever been a moment when he had escaped to peace.

The man he had labeled as clean cut moved to the register and whispered something loudly to the young woman. The girl backed up, eyes widened.

Then there was another man-no, two more men. And it seemed very strange to Alex that none of them had any type of covering on their face. Surely they couldn't expect to not be recognized on the store camera.

One of them suddenly noticed Alex. He was younger than the other two men, perhaps in his late twenties. His dark brow furrowed like he wasn't sure why the boy was there.

Then he eyed Alex, as if threatening him to not make a move, but doubting that he would dare.

The first man gestured to the girl and she shook her head, clearly protesting.

What are you doing? Just give them the money, Alex thought.

One of the newly arrived men lifted his jacket to reveal a gun. The girl took a couple steps backward before the first man grabbed her arm. She tried to open her mouth to scream before she was backhanded across the face.

And that was when Alex realized that the men might not be here for the pocket money from a small store, but for the girl.

The first man was holding back the girl and one of his companions were moving quickly, taking out handcuffs, moving towards her. Alex heard the goon watching him say something to the man holding the girl. The man jerked his head at Alex, as if shocked that he had never noticed the boy before. Then he shouted some words that were clear enough "Bring him. We can leave the body somewhere else."

The man started towards him and Alex went deep into his, still living, spy mode.

"Don't hurt me!" He pleaded. Across the room, he could see the girl shooting him a look of, 'you coward'!

"I'm not going to hurt you-"The younger man started.

Of course you aren't.

"-just do exactly what we tell you to. Now, come here."

Alex slowly walked towards the three men. His face was stricken with mock fear, but inside he knew that these men were nothing compared to the criminals that he had faced so many times before.

"Put your hands up, son", One of the men said.

Alex kept his hands down.

"Put your hands up."

"I-I can't." Alex stuttered before dropping his body heavily on the floor. Two of the men moved closer, confused.

As soon as they were close enough, he spun his legs around, lashing out. Both of the men fell to the floor and Alex heard more than one explicative coming from their mouths. He was already up on his feet though and before they could get up themselves, Alex had managed to bash his hidden vegetable soup can against twice against one of the men's head.

"Stop!" He heard the man at the front shout.

Alex didn't stop and heard the resulting gunshot hit the wall, not two inches away from his arm. He had only managed to miss it by abruptly leaning down under the cover of a shelf.

"I do not miss easily. I will shoot again." It was the man grasping the cashier girl that spoke. He was the one holding the gun now. The other man, the one that Alex had not knocked unconscious with a soup can, was standing up beside him appearing very provoked.

"Stand up", the man ordered.

Alex actually obeyed him, running out of ideas. He could really use one of Smither's gadgets right now.

The man that Alex had previously knocked down was now heading over to Alex. As he neared, Alex held out his hands expectantly, as one would to a police officer at the second that they realized the gig is over. As a smirk passed over the man's face and he went to grab the boy, Alex kicked out with all of the precision and energy that he had built through years of karate right at the jugular vein bulging out of the man's neck. His body fell, and Alex didn't dare move to check on whether he was dead or simply seriously injured.

The gun was now aimed at him, but it was not fired. The first man looked perplexed. He had not expected an ordinary teenage boy to fight back. Not like that.

It was at that moment when the man was distracted and pointed his gun at Alex, pulling back the safety lock and aiming, that the girl lashed out. She elbowed her captor. First in the groin, then the nose. The most painful areas of attack. And when he fell to the ground, clutching his areas of attack and dropping the gun, Alex dived to grab it.

Picking up the weapon, he striked it against the back of the final man's head, hearing the 'thud' as the body it the floor. A gun still felt awkward in his hands, Alex noticed.

He also noticed the man that had just busted the store door open, with a gun of his own held up.

It was John Rider.

"He tried to shoot you," John began, breathless.

Nothing unusual, Alex wanted to say, but refrained.

Instead, Alex shrugged and moved towards his father before remembering the girl. When he turned to look for her, she was hanging up an old telephone built into the wall. She looked at John Rider and said, "I called the police. You people should leave while you can."

"He's not with them", Alex said, moving his eyes from the beaten men on the floor and finally taking a long look at the cashier. He made eye contact with her and felt something.

He had seen her before.

"We should go", John Rider said. He took his son by the arm and steered him through the door.

Alex's eyes were still on the girl. He couldn't move them from her. And that's when he knew that he knew her.

"Fiona!" Alex called from the street outside and saw her eyes light up in surprise. There were police sirens sounding off nearby, coming closer. His father moved quickly, pulling Alex along.

And Alex followed, as confused as ever.

Fiona Friend. He pondered.

What are you doing here?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the vast city of London, Alex's friend, Tom, was coincidently in a convenience store himself. He was picking up late groceries, trying to decide on what to buy on the night that his parents were away on business. He wasn't much of a cook himself, so tonight it would probably come to a packaged meal for the purpose of survival.

He was considering canned vegetable soup when a man caught the corner of his eyes. Tom looked up and stared. He usually didn't stare, but tonight he was tired and not holding as true to etiquette as he should have been.

There was something about the man that stuck out. His appearance wasn't odd or anything. He was well-dressed with black overcoat on and had a clean-shaven face that could have belonged to any businessman off of the street. It was hard for Tom to explain, but something about the man just didn't quite fit in with the setting. He didn't belong here.

Then the man noticed his staring and shot him a look. He smiled at the boy, but Tom could have sworn it was forced. He stood, gaping before mentally slapping himself and turning back to his own business. If his friend Alex were here, he would be laughing at Tom for his jumpiness.

He bought his food and left.

But as Tom started for his way toward home, he saw the same strange man walk down the opposite block. And the insane part of him was begging him to follow.

Unexpectedly, Tom turned around and changed his course.

What would Alex say to this? Tom wondered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N- As always let me know if you are still enjoying this story. I'm trying to finally work on this and finish it up smoothly, so feedback would be appreciated! And plot guesses are great too ;)

And let me know how you liked the trailer,

-DRoA