Dereliction of Duty
By Simply Shelby

A week after new years, a man showed up on the doorstep of a Chelsea apartment. He stamped his feet on the doormat to shake the snow from his boots and raised a hand to the doorbell. A young woman with a head of red hair opened the door, smiling brightly.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, her American accent shining through in her voice. The man deduced that this must be Jack Starbright, Alex Rider's housekeeper and in loco parentis.

"Uh, yeah." The man in the doorway shifted uncomfortably. "I'm here to see Alex Rider?"

Immediately, Jack was on the offense. "May I ask why?"

"I'm Ben Daniels," he introduced, by way of an explanation.

It seemed to be enough, for she opened the door wider to let him in. "He's asleep right now and I'm not going to wake him up. Neither are you." Her glare seemed to triple in intensity, daring the man to argue with her.

Ben stepped inside. It was almost nine in the morning, but he had all day. "I can wait."

"Have a seat," she told him, walking towards the kitchen, "D'you want some coffee or tea?"

"Coffee would be great, if you wouldn't mind?" He followed her.

Jack smiled brightly, "It's no trouble," she assured him, "I'm Jack Starbright. I take care of Alex. Cream and sugar?"

"No, thank you." He sat himself down in a white kitchen chair, observing the marks of wear and tear across the table.

She set a mug of steaming brown liquid in front of him. Strangely, it was less sludgy than he was used to. Then again, he was used to the rubbish of the SAS and the woman was American. And didn't they have some strange corner on that market? "I just wanted to check up on him," he offered an explanation to her slightly worried look.

She blushed softly and seemed to be relieved. "I'm sure he'll be down soon. He hardly ever sleeps past nine. Even with..." she trailed off.

He nodded, taking another sip of the rich brew. "I can wait," he repeated and leant back into the kitchen chair.

Almost twenty minutes after Ben had finished his first cuppa coffee, Alex's footsteps reverberated as he stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. His blonde hair was mussed and the heel of his hand was pressed against his sleepy eyes. Ben had a hard time keeping himself from laughing outright.

The kid went straight for the coffee pot, but Jack headed him off by handing him a glass of orange juice. "Uh-uh," she reprimanded as he tried to pass her, "No coffee for you."

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Alex accepted the glass and sat opposite Daniels.

"Morning," the man greeted and Alex chose to ignore the hint of amusement in his voice. The boy wasn't surprised to find the MI6 agent sitting at his kitchen table, or if he was he didn't show it.

"Mr Daniels dropped by to check on you Alex," Jack tried to spark a converstation while shoving toast into the toaster.

The boy blinked sleepily. "I'm fine," he told Fox thickly, his tongue heavy, "I didn't get shot. I didn't even get hurt."

"Maybe not physically."

As Jack turned her back to butter the popped-up toast, Alex snatched up Ben's coffee and took several gulps of it before setting it back down. Daniels let him. "I'm really fine," the blond boy insisted, "Jack's helped me through a lot of it and Tom and Sabina were there to help. They knew something was wrong even if they didn't know what. I don't need you checking up on me."

"I like to see things for myself. You're not as well off as you seem to be on paper."

"Is that really any of your concern?"

"Alex!" Jack admonished, a bit aghast at his attitude.

"Sorry," he apologised immediately and no one could miss the sincerity in his voice, "I just..." He stood up suddenly and walked out of the kitchen. A few moments later, they heard the front door slam shut.

Jack took a deep breath and put her head in her hands. It was clear this was more than she could handle. "He's not okay," she confided in him, "If there's anything you can do... I've done all I can."

He found Alex a few houses down, bundled in a winter jacket and rubber wellies protecting his feet from the cold. He was still in some flannel pyjamas and sitting on a snow-free side of the walk.

"You're very important to each other," he observed, handing the kid a piece of toast and a cuppa coffee and joining him on the kerb.

Alex nodded slowly, accepting the peace offerings. "She's my family," he admitted, "and my friend."

"That's good," Ben approved. "You've other friends, too, you mentioned," he continued with a knowing smile.

"Sabina," Alex said succinctly, but decided to expand around the toast in his mouth. "She... she was here for the holidays." The beginnings of a silly smile lit up his face and showed how much he really cared for the girl. "She really... helped. And Tom," he added, "He's always around." Alex looked down at his hands. "He's a good friend to talk to, but sometimes I'm not sure if I… if he…" He shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth, chewing instead of finishing his sentence.

"How he deals with the things you tell him?"

"Yeah," the young man swallowed and shook his head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Ben reached out a hand to clasp Alex's shoulder. And though it was tempting to shove the man away, Alex didn't shrug the hand off. "Sometimes it helps to talk it out to someone who can understand." He rifled through his pockets and brought out a blank business card and a pen. "That's my cell and home," he said when he finished jotting down a series of numbers and handed a card to Alex. "And the third's for when I'm away. Just state your name and they'll get a message to me. Just in case."

Setting down the mug, Alex took it between his thumb and forefinger. "In case of what?"

The older man shrugged. "Blunt told me you'd said you were finished with MI6." It wasn't a question, but neither was it a statement.

Alex wasn't sure how to answer. "I did."

"And when you're walking down the street, Alex, and you can't help but notice or overhear something and you realise you're the only person who can do anything… What will you do, Alex?"

Alex shook his head, frustrated, and blew out air from his nose. "I don't know," his eyes darkened and slid over to the cup on the ground. He knew Daniels was right, knew that there was no way out of the game... knew that MI6 would never be finished with him. And, really, he wasn't finished with them either.

Ben tapped the card. "In case of that, then." He rose from the kerb.

"I can't go back!" Alex's desperate voice stopped him. "My parents, Ian, Ash…MI6 ruined them. My godfather killed my parents simply because he felt like he was second-rate to my..." he stumbled over the word, "to my dad! How can I go back knowing it'll ruin me; knowing it'll ruin everyone around me?"

Daniels sighed. "Alex, knowing what would have happened to the world if you hadn't been there to save it… how can you not go back?"

"I didn't chose this. I never wanted this." He pursed his lips. "I'm not some superhero they can keep on call. I'm just a kid."

"You ever read comic books?"

Alex frowned. "Yeah. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

"How many of those superheroes had a choice?"

"I just said I'm not--"

Ben choked back a laugh. "You might as well be, Alex." Crouching back down to where Alex was sitting, he continued, "MI6 let you walk out of headquarters becuse morally and legally they can't have you working for them. What they haven't told you is exactly what you don't want to hear. You're the only one who can do anything." He paused. "Or would you subjugate some other boy to your fate?"

Alex's head jerked up and his features were appalled and pale at the insinuation. "What kind of question is that?" He swore harshly and Ben noticed his hands shook slightly. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone." He scoffed lightly, "Like there's anyone out there like me?"

"You think that'll stop them? Having a kid on hand is nothing short of a secret weapon. They'll go out an find another boy with less experience and luck. Though he probably won't be as successful as you."

Alex went to smack his fist against the asphalt, but thought better of it. "They sent you to talk me into this," he accused.

"'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.'" Daniels quoted the familiar maxim; the same quote that aorned the wall in his uncle's study. But didn't deflect the accusation. "You are willfully failing to perform your duty, Alex, and ineptitude is no excuse for you. Kid or not--"

"Yes, alright!" Alex stood to his feet, jamming his hands--and Ben's business card--into his pockets. "I'll..." he looked back toward the Chelsea apartment, taking in the houses covered in picturesque snow and thinking of everything he was about to give up. It hurt, knowing how much he would be sacrificing in order to fulfill this misplaced sense of duty. But, he knew ignoring everything would hurt worse. This job ran in his blood, the need to act flowed through his veins. Hadn't he always known he could never give it up?

"I'll think about it." Alex turned and started the walk back toward home.

"'Till next time, Cub," Daniels murmured, more to himself than to the kid, "and good luck."