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Alex was already running late to his university class when his cell phone started to ring.
He reached into his pocket intending to turn off the phone's ringer, assuming that the incoming call was from Jack, Sabina or Tom. They were the only people who kept in contact with him regularly.
It was an unknown number, with a 115 area code, Nottingham if Alex remembered correctly. It was likely a spam call; someone trying to sell him something or waste his time. Ian always said to never answer them, plus if it was really that important whoever was calling could just leave a message.
And- Alex stole a glance at the time, if he did not get out of here in the next minute he would miss his train.
There was just something odd nagging at him. Alex pulled the slightly burnt piece of toast out of his mouth and pressed down on the answer button.
“Hello, May I speak with Alex Rider?” The female voice on the other end of the line spoke. Whoever this unknown number was…well, they knew who he was.
“Who is asking?”
“I’m Sarah, a nurse at the Queen’s Medical Centre in Nottingham. I am calling for Alex Rider?
“What?” Alex responded rather confused. Why would a nurse from a hospital miles away call him on this dreary weekday morning. Heck, why at all? It’s not like he had an appointment up there. “Uh… This is him.”
Alex slid himself onto one of the high stools. He did not know anyone in Nottingham. Jack and Sab were both in America, Tom was or should be in his Uni classes. None of them were anywhere near Nottingham. His mind briefly flashed to Ben Daniels. It had been months, almost a year now, since he had spoken to Ben. Ben might have been from Birmingham or Manchester. But if it was Ben…. Alex would have expected Wolf or Crawley to pass the news on to him.
“Well Alex. I’m calling regarding your loved one, Ian Rider. And, I wanted to inform you that they have been admitted to our hospital.”
“What the fuc-“ Alex started to respond before catching himself, “Sorry. I just am really not expecting this. You said my uncle, Ian Rider, is in the hospital?”
“Yes. I know the news can come as a bit of a shock,” She continued, “He was involved in a serious accident when his motorbike collided with oncoming traffic. He listed your name and phone number to the medical personnel at the scene, before being med flown to Queen’s Medical center. He is currently in the Intensive Burn unit at the hospital. I am calling firstly to inform you of his condition but also because you are listed as Ian’s medical proxy, and legally are able to make decisions on his behalf for treatment.”
Alex ran a hand through his hair. It was unbelievable. There is no way Ian is still alive? Or was there? It was a closed casket at the funeral. Ian or even Alan Blunt could have faked his death. Four years…
It was a long time. And, if Ian was alive why didn’t he try to make contact with Alex before that? Why would he just abandon him? Especially if he knew Blunt and Jones would take advantage? Alex felt just a bit angry.
“Alright,” Alex repeated, turning his focus back to the phone call, “What happened? And what do I have to do?”
“Firstly, Ian has suffered from second and third degree burns on his right side. The third degree burns extend through the entire thickness of his skin, are more challenging to treat and may require skin grafts. He also sustained a head injury. We’ve conducted relevant diagnostic tests which showed swelling.
Our main concern here is increased pressure on his brain from his skull. But, we need consent in order to do surgery.”
“My consent, right?” Alex asked
“Correct. We also want to make sure that you know the procedure, the risks and the benefits, along with answering any questions you might have.”
“That is the best thing to do, right? That’s what the doctors are recommending?”
“The sooner we reduce the swelling and pressure on the skull the better.”
“Alright, yeah do that. I’m definitely not going to make it to my class today…. You said Nottingham?”
“Yes, that is correct.” The nurse responded.
“Good. I’ll be on the next train up.” With that Alex ended the phone call, and pondered what had just happened. He felt nauseous, like the room was spinning way too fast around him.
On one hand, Ian could be dead. There was always a chance that there are two Ian Riders with the same birthdays in the UK- maybe the other Ian had a nephew named Alex. Alex was a common enough name. So was Rider.
On the other hand, Ian could be very much alive. Which brought Alex full of emotions. If he was alive why did he wait four years to contact Alex, why was he in Nottingham, and why didn’t anyone tell him? A thought dawned on Alex. Maybe they did not even know Ian was still alive.
By the time Alex had arrived at the hospital, Ian was already in surgery. Alex met with the doctor who was going to be in charge of Ian’s recovery. Alex’s rights as a medical proxy were also explained to him, and Alex signed some paperwork that felt like legal jargon.
He was greeted with both good and bad news.
The good news was that most of the burns were located on Ian’s right side. They were still bad, but not as bad as Alex had originally thought.
The bad news was the cranial swelling that was concerning the doctors. The second, bad news was that almost all of Ian’s health records had vanished completely from the hospital system. Alex had a few ideas why it could have happened, but still he found it to be a bit odd. With the lack of medical history, Ian’s doctor asked Alex a lot of questions most of which Alex did not know the answers to.
Ian’s death- or well disappearance was four years ago, meant that Alex’s fading memories of Ian’s medical history was the only record they had. Alex hardly remembered his own medical history half the time, let alone the medical history for someone who kept 90% of his life hidden from Alex. So Alex tried his best.
“Your uncle had a decent amount of scarring even before the burns.”
“He got them during his time in the army.” Alex responded with a shrug.
“And the bullet wound on his chest? How old is that? Was the bullet removed?”
“I didn't even know he had one. He kept quiet about his work and his past.”Alex bit his lip in thought, “Uh, it's probably been four years since. Could be more, but I don’t remember seeing him with one as a kid.”
“And the… scarring on his back?”
“What kind of scars?”
“For a lack of better terminology, they appear to be whip marks. “
Alex shook his head no. Was Ian tortured at some point? Was that what happened to him these past four years? Alex added this to the growing list of questions he had when Ian woke up from surgery.
“We will wait for the skin graphs, then. There is a chance he won’t need them at all, or the chance that we could use synthetic. We will wait till the swelling goes down and reevaluate.”
“Yeah…” Alex said, “Do you think I could see him?”
“Once the operation is over and we get him established into a room. I will keep you updated.”
Alex nodded. The doctor gathered his things and left.
Alex stayed sitting on the hospital waiting room bench, thinking about this whole situation. This morning he had thought Ian was dead, and now, here Ian was alive again.
At first, Alex had figured that it would have been a case of mistaken identity. But the questioning from the doctors, and the missing paperwork just seemed to fit closely with his uncle. At this point, all that Alex could do was wait for Ian to get out of surgery. He had so many questions to ask him, and he did not know where to start. Or, if Ian actually wanted to answer them. After all, the man vanishes without a word for four years, then turns out injured out of the blue one day. Ian had to have a reason or he would not have done it. And, maybe Alex did not want to know the truth.
Who just abandons their 14 year old nephew?
After a few hours of nervous energy, cheap hospital coffee, and too much money spent on vending machine snacks, the doctor returned.
“Ian is out of surgery, and it was successful. You should go home and rest. He will continue to be medically sedated for the next few hours and we will bring him around in the morning.”
“Alright…” Alex said, grabbing his coat and his phone. Alex headed to the nearest hotel to crash. Despite the comfortable room, Alex got no sleep that night. Too many thoughts ran through his head.
The man in Ian’s hospital bed was most definitely not Ian Rider.
And, Alex did not know if he should be angry or relieved.
At first, Alex had done a double take thinking that he had walked into the wrong room. But, after looking at the man’s face; his high cheekbones, which were covered with a few days worth of black stubble, and the iconic scar on his neck, Alex knew that he was in the right room.
No, Ian Rider was still dead. It was Yassen Gregorovich who was very very much alive. The little beeps from the heart monitor proved that the man had a heart, and the drips of various liquids were all working to keep the man alive.
And, Alex did not know if he should be angry or relieved.
Alex sighed, the emotional exhaustion of the past few days was threatening to catch up with him. He walked into the room, setting down the stuffed “Get well soon” teddy bear on the window ledge, before curling up in the hospital chair next to the man.
Alex really should report the man, one phone call to Jones would have him swept up and transported someplace else… probably permanently. Even if he was transported to a medical prison, the medical care that he was receiving now as Ian Rider would abruptly stop. And, that is what made Alex hesitate.
Alex glanced back over at Yassen.
He was still asleep, breathing softly. It was a side of Yassen that Alex had never seen before. Vulnerable. It made Yassen look younger and older at the same time. The lines and wrinkles on his face seem to have softened. His short black hair was completely shaved off on the right side, and a soft padded helmet, like the ones Alex used in his karate classes- was wrapped around the man’s head to protect his skull.
“You're supposed to be dead, you know?” Alex snapped at him. But, Yassen did not respond. Alex pulled his knees up to his chest, and softly he responded, “I thought you were dead. Then, I thought… that Ian was alive. I had all of these emotions, all of these questions to ask him. Then I get here, and it’s you.
“I don’t know what to do. I was Ian’s medical proxy, I made choices because I thought I was saving him. I don’t know what you want me to do?”
The man still did not respond. His breathing was soft and even as the various machines kept him alive.
“Do you even want to go through all of this? The skin graphs? Multiple surgeries? What about medicine? Do you have any allergies? And, you could have a seizure or heart attack? Then what am I to do?”
Alex turned to look out of the window unable to look at Yassen any longer.
“Do I even want to save the man who… killed my uncle?”
After a while, the soft hospital beeps, and the sound of rain against the window’s pane encouraged Alex to drift off to sleep.
Alex was awoken to the sound of someone coughing. He was so used to living alone that the sound startled him.
Blinking his eyes open, Alex's heart raised when he realized that he was in a hospital only to remember, a few seconds later, that he was here as Yassen’s “Ian’s” medical proxy.
“Alex?” came Yassen’s voice just a bit horse and dry. His left arm reached outward toward the small table and Alex sat next to it. Assuming that Yassen wanted the water, Alex stood up, reached over and grasped the spill proof cup before handing it to Yassen.
“I didn’t expect you to stay….” Yassen said almost sweetly. It must have been the drugs mellowing out the assassins normally rough exterior.
“And- I was not expecting you to be alive.” Alex responded, sitting back down into the chair and crossing his arms.
“Ah. The nurse talked to me earlier, when you were asleep.”
“Oh…” Alex said, wondering just how long he was asleep for. A glance out the window showed that it was now dark outside. He was probably asleep for hours.
“I don’t remember the accident or what I said during it.” Yassen spoke, “But, I am sorry for telling them I was Ian Rider. It must be hard for you to have… gone through that again. I suppose, I had thought it was the best course of action at the time.”
“I-“ Alex was not expecting Yassen to apologize, “I don’t know what to say. Other than that, I am glad you're not dead.
“They don’t know. Conveniently most of Ian’s medical records have vanished, so they think you're my… uncle. And, if anyone else was aware I am sure we would have heard from them already.”
Yassen nodded as if thinking about and accepting Alex’s words.
“You don’t have to stay here.” Yassen said a bit more coldly, “Go home, Alex.”
“I’m your medical proxy-“
“And, I am very much conscious now, and can make my own medical decisions.”
Alex for once did not know what to say, and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. The only sound was the soft rain hitting the window panes outside.
Alex felt like he was being dismissed. Even though the man across from him was not Ian, he was still someone Alex was glad to have back. Alex had thought Yassen was dead. He still had a ton of questions for the man. Mostly about his father, but Alex was also interested in who the assassin actually was. Alex did not want to lose him, too.
“I’m sorry…” Alex started, unsure of what to say but wanting to say anything that would allow him to stay, “I didn’t realize it was you. They wanted to do the surgery to release the swelling. I just… thought you were Ian, and I didn’t want to lose him again.”
“It’s… okay, Alex.” Yassen said, setting the cup of water down next to him on the bed. His expression was unreadable as he looked over at Alex. “They would have done the surgery to save my life, even if I was an unknown John Doe. It is what all hospitals do. Then, they would have been trying to find a match in their system. The police would have been here when I woke up instead of you.”
“You're not just going to be able to get up and walk out of here, Yassen.” Alex said, running a hand through his hair as he spoke, “They took a piece of your skull out. The doctors warned me that you were at high risk for complications. The morphine drip is probably the only reason you feel up to having this conversation.”
Just as Alex was finishing up speaking, the nurse poked her head into the room.
“How are you feeling this afternoon, Mr. Rider.”
“I am feeling much better now, Sarah.” Yassen said flashing Sarah a charismatic smile.
Sarah moved into the room, moving over to Yassen’s bed. She switched out one of the bags for a fresh one.
“I was worried that we sedated the wrong Rider.” Sarah joked, glancing over at Alex, “You were asleep for most of the afternoon. Your uncle didn’t want us to wake you up. The cafeteria is closed down now, but I can call something in for you.”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” Alex responded.
Sarah turned her attention back to Yassen. Poking around at the different medical equipment and drips attached to Yassen. Alex glanced at the foot of the bed, feeling awkward and as if he was intruding in a Yassen’s private matters. After a while, once she was done with changing and checking Yassen’s medical stuff she moved out of the room.
The silence returned to the room.
“Your mother was a nurse.” Yassen said after a while.
Alex looked back at Yassen completely flabbergasted, “Okay. I knew that, but how did you know that?”
“I was friends with your father.” Yassen said, with a nonchalant shrug, “I got plenty of stories.”
Alex’s eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement. “Can you tell me about them?”
When Alex returned the next day, he was expecting Yassen to have fled from the hospital overnight.
Instead, Yassen was still laying down in the bed. Alex thought that Yassen looked a bit worse then the day before. His skin was paler in colour, dark circles sat under his eyes, and his skin was puffy and swollen. Alex’s vague knowledge of burns did tell him that the biggest risk was an infection afterwards, and the loss of fluids could become dangerous, to prevent that the hospital would have Yassen on a decent amount of fluids leading to the puffy swollen look.
Alex noticed that the teddy bear was sitting on the bed next between the rail and Yassen’s right hand.
“Good afternoon, Yassen.” Alex said as he walked into the room and took a seat at the chair.
“You left this here.” Yassen said, moving with a bit of struggle to hand Alex the stuffed toy.
“It’s actually for you.” Alex responded, “A get well gift…. It's a comfort item to make you feel better.”
“That explains why Sarah had insisted I hold it.” Yassen responded with a pained laugh, he pulled the teddy bear back, giving it a bit of a squeeze, before setting it down at his side.
“How are you doing?” Alex asked
“Just about as well as I can be.” Yassen responded
“Yeah… hospitals suck.” Alex said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I think the last time I was in one was when I got burned… quite like you, but also not.”
“Burned from what?”
“Aeroplane petrol.” Alex said, nonchalantly as if being burned by plane fuel was as common as burning your thumb on a hot pan.
“Crash?”
“No- Someone was shooting at a barrel.”
“That’s quite a story.” Yassen said, “But, very stupid of them.”
“Oh yeah it was explosive.” Alex said, with a small smirk on his lips, “Better that he shot the barrel then me.”
Yassen gave Alex a look that could only be interpreted as ‘how can you joke about something like that’.
“Yassen… what are your scars from?”Alex brought up something that had been on his mind since he talked to the doctor. It was partly morbid curiosity. Alex had thought about it. He wondered if Scorpia would have punished someone in that way, and what would Yassen have done to deserve that.Or were they from something more innocent? The scars looked too deep to have been from something like BDSM, if Yassen was even into that kind of thing. The thought sent an uncomfortable chill down Alex’s spine.
“I told you that the one on my neck was from your father, yes?”
“I know that but… what caused the ones on your back?”
The pained look that flashed on Yassen’s face made Alex regret asking immediately.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Yassen said.
“Oh, It’s okay.”
“It is not a good story, Alex.”
“I said it was okay.” Alex responded, “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just not used to…”Yassen sighed, he wrinkled his eyebrows down, “I’m just not used to opening up to others.”
“Yassen, It's okay. When you're ready you can tell me, and if you're never ready that's okay too.”
“Thank you, Alex.” He responded sending Alex another soft smile,“For understanding.”
Alex responded with his own soft smile. He was enjoying this side of the assassin. The side that was open, full of soft words and kind smiles. Once the drugs wore off Yassen would slip back into that cold professional exterior, and Alex would probably never see that side of the man again.
He remembered the first time he saw Yassen at Point Blanc, their small wave of solidarity on the helicopter pad before Yassen flew away, when Yassen realized it was Alex at the warehouse, and lastly on the plane when Alex had thought he had died.
Maybe Yassen hadn’t been that cold to Alex this whole time. There were moments of softness- of that’s what Alex should call it- admit the traumatic memories. Yeah. Yassen had been on the job but he had never been cold to Alex.
Maybe, Alex was just lucky enough to see a side of Yassen that no one else ever did.
They settled into a routine. Alex would visit Yassen in the mornings and stay till the afternoon. They talked about a bunch of things, most of them about the adventures of the not-so- fictional agent Sasha Johnson. Which was just Alex talking about his past in a way that if they were accidentally overhead it was all fictional. Every once and a while Yassen would make a comment about his own past, but they were moments that were far and few between. But, every time he did, Alex got excited as he unlocked more “Assassin lore” as Alex called it much to Yassen’s bemusement.
Meanwhile, Alex switched to trying to complete as much of his classes online, with his professors mostly being understanding of his situation. That way he was able to spend as much time as possible at the hospital keeping Yassen company. Sometimes Alex would work at the family lounge room down the hallway because it was quieter, and other times he would steal Yassen’s bedside table to use as a desk.
However, this time Alex was curled up on the chair sideways with his knees hanging over the one armrest and his back against the other. He was slugging his way through The Canterbury Tales and hating every moment of it. He felt like he would die of boredom and understood why the author died before he could finish it.
“Ugh- Remind me why I took this class.” Alex mumbled, putting the open book on his knee to keep his spot. Then he leaned even further back in the chair, till he was watching the world from upside down. He felt his back crack giving him a momentary feeling of relief.
“Because you have a personal interest in medieval English literature?” Yassen said, his eyes focused on the page in front of him, as he casually flipped through a magazine that Alex had picked up for him from the checkout counter at a Friend’s Supermarket.
“Ick.” Alex said, “Look, I know German and Middle English is harder than German.”
“Ah- Du sprichst Deutsch.” Yassen said, switching languages with ease, „Kannst du Russisch sprechen?“
“Nein. Nicht viel.” Alex said, “Why are we speaking german?”
“To prove a point.” Yassen said as he reached for a pen and a napkin. He scribbled down a few things onto the napkin.
Alex sat upright, just a bit curious as to what Yassen was doing.
“Can you read this?” Yassen said, passing the napkin to him.
Русский труднее учиться, чем средний английский.
“No. Is this Russian?” Alex said, looking at the napkin with skepticism.
“Try.” Yassen responded giving Alex an encouraging smile.
Alex looked at the note, pointing at the first word.
“pry- ”
“Russkiy” Yassen corrected him before Alex had even finished speaking.
“Yeah that word.” Alex said, “it means Russian right.”
“Good.” Yassen said, praising Alex, “Keep trying.”
Alex could not help the small smile that formed at his lips from Yassen’s praise. He wanted to make the man proud but he really had no idea what the other words ment yet alone how to pronounce them. He had a few of the words down, the yes “Da” and the no “Net” and I am Alex “ya Alex” and that was it. He never learned the cyrillic version, and Yassen’s writing made all the letters flow together elegantly. Although Alex had googled Russian cursive before out of curiosity, and was shocked at the complexity of the language. At least Yassen made an attempt to make it legible for Alex to translate.
“Did you figure it out yet?”
“No.” Alex said sadly, admitting defeat.
“Russian is more difficult than middle English.”
“Yeah. I can see that. You don’t need to dig it in.” Alex said, looking back at the napkin, as if the words would magically translate. “So what does it say?”
“Russian is more difficult than middle English.”
“Oh-” Alex said with a daunting realization, “your an arse”
Yassen laughed, it was light, joyful and completely contagious that Alex could not help but laugh as well. Plus, Alex had to admit it was kinda funny.
“I talked with my doctor yesterday after you left.” Yassen said, as Alex walked into the room. “They are planning the second surgery for Tuesday. But, after that they are talking about discharging me a few days after, if everything goes well.”
“Oh…” Alex said, feeling suddenly just a bit disappointed that his time with Yassen was coming to the end. He moved into the room, setting his rucksack down on the window ledge. “What is your plan then? Go to Russia? Or back to Italy?”
“No.” Yassen said, “I don’t really think Russia is the best place for me…”
“Don’t you have family there-'' Alex said “ like a second cousin on some distant Russian Serbian farm?”
“Those are two different countries, Alex.” Yassen responded looking more amused than upset at Alex’s blunder. “There might be some cousins somewhere, but I don’t know them. Even if they were alive, I don’t want my baggage to come with me. They would not understand, and they would be at risk of getting hurt.
“As for my plan… Well, I don’t really have one. Take every day as it comes I suppose.”
“You could always stay with me…” Alex said, softly, unsure if Yassen would approve.
“Alex…” Yassen responded just as equally softly, “I don’t think that is a good idea.”
“Jack’s old room is on the first floor, and that way I can help care for you as you heal.” Alex said getting just a bit more emotional as he spoke, “If you just leave and run across the world…your just going to make it harder to heal-“
“Alex, it's not the first time I got hurt.”
“But I just got you back.” Alex confessed, “I don’t want to lose you again.”
They stared at each other, neither knowing what exactly to say in response.
“Alex, I’m not a good person.” Yassen settled on, “I can not replace your uncle. I am not your father. It is better if I am not in your life.”
“I don’t want you to be.” Alex begged, “I just want you to be you.”
“Alex…”
“I’ve grown to like you.”Alex said, “At first, I hated you after I found out that you killed Ian. But, then you save my life… trice… I think. Are we counting the bull fight or no? You were so mysterious back then. The way you looked at me like you knew me or knew something of me. And, it nagged at me. I wondered what kind of man you were. But, now I assume you just saw my father in me. You died saving my life. I felt like I had to owe you something.
“ I followed your advice, and found out the truth about my father, and still… I had questions. I still thought about you, about your past, heck I had dreams about you-
“not those kinds of dreams,”Alex quickly amended, wincing. Although he did have a few questionable dreams about the assassin. “And, now I know that you're alive. All of those feelings all mixed together. In the past week, we got to know each other- what I’m trying to say is… I like you, Yassen. I don’t want you to be my uncle or my father. I want you to be my… friend. Yeah, I’ll be happy with friend.”
“I think… I like you too.” After a second Yassen spoke, “I’m not used to this… have a friend. The only other person I considered a friend in my life was… your father. Even then…”
“He was working undercover… and you found out and felt betrayed. I get it… being betrayed by people you trusted.”
“Give me some time to think about it.” Yassen said.
“I understand.” Alex said,
“I just want you to know that that offer is extended. Even if you don’t want to stay with me now. I want you to know that you're welcome any time.”
“I appreciate that.” Yassen said, “Thank you, Alex.”
It was Thursday before Alex had been able to return to the hospital to check on Yassen. He had wanted to been there for the surgery on Tuesday, but he had an exam on Wednesday that he had to show up in class for. He was worried, but Yassen told Alex that it would not make a difference if he was physically at the hospital, and that it was time that Alex focused on school.
So feeling like a school boy getting scolded Alex went home and spent the weekend studying for the exam.
“Hey!” Alex said walking into the hospital room, “Sorry, I’ve not been here for a few days…But, you're looking good…I mean you look good, better than you have before.”
“It’s okay, Alex.” Yassen said, “I am glad I’m done with surgery for now. They want me to do physical therapy, and I told them I would go back to London but ....” Yassen said, moving his arm.
“You're worried that people will start asking questions. "Alex finished
“Close enough.” Yassen said, leaning back, his head resting softly on the hospital pillows.
“And the burns?” Alex asked
“They are healing.”
“I rented a car…” Alex responded, “That way I can drive you to wherever you want to go. London, a rail station, an airport or even one of your houses. Wherever you want to go. Speaking of that, have you made up your mind?”
“It would be nice to have a safe-house with some nice company, but Alex, I don’t want to put you out.”
“You will be fine. Plus I have way too much money.” Alex smirked, “It would be nice to spend it on someone.”
Yassen chuckled, “I also have plenty of money.”
“Well mine was mostly obtained through legal means.” Alex crossed his arms
“I’m sure Sasha Johnson would agree that all his money was legal.” Yassen said sarcastically, “I am sure no one died, or was harmed, right? I digress.”
“You're not about to start a “We aren't that different” speech are you?”
“Well, are we?” Yassen said, “Sometimes when I look at you a see a younger version of me.”
“A younger version of you?” Alex responded, “At least I can say I’ve never worked for the Russian mob.”
“The Russian mob?” Yassen responded, “Who told you that?”
Alex leaned forward in thought. He clearly remembered that someone had told him that, but he can't remember exactly who had said it. Alex shrugged.
“So did you?” Alex asked, excited to learn more Assassin lore.
“No.” Yassen said, “But I once worked with a high profile Yakuza member.”
“Can you tell me about that?”
“It’s not PG.” Yassen said with a laugh.
“PG- 13?”
“More like rated R.”
“Great!” Alex grinned, “I'll get the popcorn.”
It was two days later, that Yassen was finally cleared to leave the hospital. Alex had helped Yassen into the fount passenger seat of the car. The “get well soon” bear that Alex had gotten him sitting on Yassen’s lap.
At some point someone had wrapped the bear’s arm in a bandage.
“What happened to, Bearsy?” Alex asked, as he slid into the driver's seat.
“Bearsy?” Yassen repeated as he looked down at the stuffed toy. “Oh… the seam was ripping so I stitched him up.”
“Of course you know how to sew.” Alex said, turning the keys on the car.
“It is a very useful skill to have.” Yassen said, “Do you know how to sew?”
“Uh… Kinda.” Alex mumbled, “I could probably do stitches. But, Jack fixed all my clothing.”
“Tisk tisk, Little rich English boy.”
“I’m not rich.” Alex countered, “and I’m not little.”
“Hum…” Yassen thought out loud, “Fully paid house in Chelsea, designer clothing, this is a nice rental car, a house keeper to do all your chores for you, plus I bet you got a lifetime of saving in the bank.”
“Maybe a little rich… upper middle class at best.” Alex responded, “Look I don’t get paid what you did.”
Yassen shrugged, “Crime does pay.”
“Look, I tried that. The darkside does not have cookies,” Alex said, adding, “They lied.”
“I’m sure they do much more than just lie.” Yassen said, “And, would you really have eaten those hypothetical cookies?”
“Possibly.” Alex said with a shrug, “I ate the food at Malagosto… I give it 3 out of 5 stars. Better then what they serve at SAS. Although, they did try to kill me four times.”
“Five.”
“....” Alex responded with silence and a few blinks of his eyes, “What?”
“Well, was when my parents died, then when Julia Rothman poisoned me with Invisible sword, the snipper outside of the bank, Yu tried to kill me and lastly Razim and Grimaldi brothers alliance. That’s five, right?”
“Hum… I did hear about the helicopter being stolen. It was impressive.”
“It was not impressive.” Alex said, “Not when I had to find the bloody thing.”
“Six.”
“What?” Alex said, “We are just counting scorpia, right?”
“Yes.” Yassen said, “There was a hit placed on you back in April, after you took down Sayle and cost some important people lots of money.”
“Fuck.” Alex said, “Wait- how do you know about that? Did you accept it? Is that how you know?”
“You're alive, aren't you?” Yassen shrugs, “Don’t ask questions you don't want the answer too.”
“That was not a no?” Alex respond, his heart sped up as he thought about those times he saw Yassen out of the corner of his eye, “Did you follow me? Watching from the car like some obsessive stalker?”
“I don’t kill children,” Yassen said, “I’m not going to hurt you, Alex. I couldn't back then and I can't now.”
It was an awfully big promise. But, something inside of Alex knew that Yassen was truthful, he did not want to hurt Alex. It was a lot of Alex to think about.
Silence fell inside of the car with only the soft murmur of the radio in the background.
“You asked me what my scars were from?” Yassen said breaking the silence, and directing the conversation away from the topic they were on. Alex greatly appreciated it, but they would have to talk about it at some point.
“I was just curious, '' Alex said, risking a glance over at Yassen’s face. It seemed neutral as if he was still contemplating speaking to Alex about it. Alex turned back to look at the road. “It's okay if you're still not ready.”
“I- I suppose, I can try to tell you.” Yassen said, “I was once a boy like you or well who you were at 14.”
“A child spy?”
“No. An orphan. Who just found out his whole life was a carefully crafted lie,” Yassen said, as he dove into talking about Estrov, and his Russian street friends for the first time since he had told Julia Rothman years ago. “I was the only one who was small enough to fit into the window. We had thought the apartment was going to be empty except the man that owned it came home.”
“And that's how you got your scars?” Alex asked
“No, I stabbed him.”
Alex once again turned and sent Yassen a glare.
“Alex! The road!”
“Sorry sorry.” Alex said turning back to the road and correcting the car to the center of the lane. “Why am I not surprised? I just never thought Yasha would stab someone.”
“Well neither did Yasha.” Yassen responded, “anyway Sharkovsky knocked me out and kidnapped me. He was going to kill me discreetly, but somehow changed his mind. I- I know I should be able to talk about the next part but-“
“You don’t have to tell me if you're not ready either.” Alex said
“Alright. Thank you.” Yassen said, turning to look out of the window. “Well… he kept me as a sort of slave, and one day I tried to escape. I was already injured, and scared at the time, but I think part of me just wanted to try. Well, the scars were my punishment when I was caught.”
“I am so sorry.” Alex said, “I mean about all of it.”
“It's my past, those people no longer matter to me. They are dead.”
“But that’s not okay!” Alex explained, “Burying your feelings and trauma like that does not allow you to process it. Talking through it and realizing how it still affects you to this day is a part of dealing with PTSD. Lots of my villains are dead, but that still does not stop them from showing up in my dreams, or does not make the literal crocodiles not real that I hung above. That stuff happened. And, realizing that I’m still standing despite it all is what helps me. Because somewhere Yasha is still there and is so proud that your still alive.”
Even though Alex was driving he was sure he saw Yassen wipe a tear from his eyes.
“Well, Home sweet home.” Alex said as he helped Yassen into his house. “The first floor is rather simple. There is the kitchen though here, and the water closet right next to it. Unfortunately there is no shower or bath on the first floor, but your doctors even said to avoid getting the dressing wet. And, though here is Jack’s bedroom, well your bedroom now.”
Yassen pulled off the hat he was wearing, as Alex walked Yassen to the bedroom letting Yassen sit down at the bed.
“Do you trust me enough to make your dinner?” Alex asked, “You can watch if you want.”
“I think I'll be okay.” Yassen said, “Unless your planning something-“
“No-no. I’m not. I meant what I said before, I just got you back and I’m glad you're in my life.”
“Well, I am glad I have someone who is so kind hearted like you.”
Alex smiled goofy, “I’ll uh.. Be right back with food, just shout if you need something.”
Alex said, moving back to the kitchen. He put the pot on the stove to start coming to a boil. He slowly chopped up the vegetables for the soup.
There was a knock at the door.
Alex walked to open the door, opening it just a crack. On the other side of the door stood Mrs. Jones. It was not every day that the head of special operations would show up at your house uninvited.
“Good evening, Alex.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”
“I was wondering if your uncle was home,” Mrs. Jones said, almost bitterly, “if so I really would like to talk to him.”
Alex took a step outside, closing the door behind him. “Do you have a warrant?”
“Why would I need one?” Mrs. Jones smugly responded “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Alright, then talk.”
“Alex. Harboring a criminal is a serious charge. Since you have clearly made it a point that you don’t work for us anymore, we can't help you if you're caught.” Mrs. Jones sighed, “Why? Yassen Gregorovich, Alex? He killed your uncle. He killed countless other people, some just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He is a killer and a murder.”
“He was friends with my father.” Alex countered, “He saved my life a few times. Plus, wouldn’t it be better to know where someone was instead of not knowing where they were?”
“Alex. It would be better if he was in jail.”
Alex paused, moving the toe of his converse in the dirt on the porch. “So why isn’t he?”
“We need information. Specifically on a man named Robert Pascal. We believe Gregorovich would have the information or location of him.”
Alex laughed. “See that’s the problem with you people. You only show up when you need something.”
“He is not going to willingly talk to us.” Mrs. Jones said, “But he might talk to you.”
“Oh. And yeah sure.” Alex said, “Wait- you knew this whole time that Yassen was not Ian. And, you just let it happen!?”
“Not the whole time.” Jones said, “Only when we got word of one of our agents in the hospital, and realized it was someone who was deceased. Then you were missing from London and it was easy enough to put together why.
“ Get Gregorovich to talk, or somehow convince him to talk to me. You have my phone number.” With that she turned and walked back to her car.
Alex sighed, as he watched her walk away. Once she had turned her car on, Alex went back inside.
He quickly closed the door, locking it and leaned against it.
There was a lot to think about. But, right now, his heart was pounding with adrenaline. Alex had thought that they were safe, but Jones had known the whole time about Yassen. It made Alex a bit sick. Now, Jones wants Alex to get Yassen to turn? Or at least spill enough information to Alex? He sighed, running a nervous hand on the back of his neck. He had just gotten Yassen back, and just gotten the man to trust him. They were friends. And, now Alex would probably have to betray that friendship. Alex shook his head, unsure of what was right or wrong. But, like Yassen said earlier, Alex did not want to hurt him, couldn’t hurt him. The last thing Alex wanted was to lose him again.
Then he remembered the soup he had on the stove. It had likely burned or boiled over. He could worry about Jones’ request in the morning.
He moved quickly to the kitchen, worried that the Pasta would be black and charred by now. He was almost as bad of a cook as Jack is.
As he walked passed Yassen’s bedroom, Alex saw that it was empty. Yassen must have heard the knock at the door, saw it was Mrs. Jones and fled when he could have.
Alex swore. He had just got Yassen back.
Maybe it was a good thing Yassen left. That way… no one got hurt.
Yassen’s promise of not wanting to hurt him was too good to be true. Alex felt just a bit hurt. A bubble of emotion gathered in his chest, and he took a shaky breath in.
At least, only him would have to suffer through the burnt pasta.
Feeling defeated, Alex walked into the kitchen.
Standing there leaning against the counter was Yassen. He was finishing chopping up the vegetables that Alex had started to slice before Jones had knocked on the door.
“It was starting to burn.” Yassen said casually. Alex bet that Yassen had tried to overhear their conversation.
“You should be in bed.” Alex said, “Heck, you scared me there for a second, I thought you left.”
“I’m not going to leave anytime soon.” Yassen responded with a charismatic smile.
“Good.” Alex responded, “I don't want to lose you, again.”