Author's Note:

This could almost be a chapter of 'The Spy in 221B' but I've put it on its own. I haven't posted anything in weeks but this popped into my head so I typed it up and put it here, just to keep you all ticking over until my new story (first chapter will go up on Christmas Eve). The title is a reference to Hamilton (which is a wonderful musical and I'm desperately trying to get tickets to see it on the West End) in case anyone was wondering.

Hope you enjoy.

Don't forget to review!

Life Doesn't Discriminate

Ben Daniels didn't often wonder what happened to his colleagues: accidents came with the territory in his line of work and if someone fell out of contact with you it was either because they didn't like you or because they had fallen foul of one of their many enemies. As a consequence, Alex Rider rarely crossed his mind. Sure, they had gotten along well enough on that one mission and the kid had seemed alright in basic training before he had joined MI6 but since then they hadn't seen or spoken to each other and honestly Ben couldn't care less. He had better things to worry about. Like how he had just quit his job.

The last time he had seen Alex, he had shot his godfather and been shot himself. The kid was on his way back to England, back home, and (secretly) Ben was just a little bit jealous. After his stint with ASIS, he had been passed around every other branch of the secret service Blunt could think of, been injured every time, then passed onto the next one - often reluctantly, but still - ad he had had enough. When he returned, he was called to a meeting at the Bank, a debriefing. Blunt was at his desk, grey as a thundercloud, with Mrs Jones and her peppermints sitting in the corner. She looked displeased by something, her lips twisted in a grimace like she couldn't stand the taste of whatever residual emotion lingered in the air between them. Or perhaps she was simply fed up of peppermints. Ben sat down, placed his report on the desk, and told Blunt outright: "I quit." Blunt stared at him blandly, then picked up his report. "I was treated better in South Korea, South Korea, Mr Blunt, sir. With all due respect, when you're treated better by the corrupt government of the country bordering the biggest nuclear threat since the Cold War than you are by your own, you know you need to seek better employment. I don't know how Alex stands it." The clock on the wall continued to tick; was it counting down the seconds to his demise? "Alex Rider was never officially under our employ but, for your sake, he no longer aids us in any way." His voice was careful, measured, as grey as the suit he wore. Mrs Jones sniffed angrily but remained silent. "If this is all," he continued, waving the cover sheet of Ben's report, "I accept your resignation and expect it in writing by noon tomorrow. All the necessary paperwork regarding your dismissal will be provided upon its authentication." Ben knew when he wasn't wanted and left.

The phone box next to him started ringing and he was only surprised because the phones in phone boxes in this area of London were always broken and didn't ring anyway. Contrary to his mother's belief, Ben was not an idiot. He knew when something fishy was going on and this stank of the salted cod he saw on the racks in Norway. He was, however, insatiably curious. He answered the phone. "Ben Daniels. Look to the top right-hand corner of the building on your left." There was a CCTV camera and he wasn't sure he liked where this was going. "Good. And just above the doorway of the shop across the road." Another camera; this was definitely fishy. "Wonderful. I understand you are in need of a job. Get in the car that stops outside this phone box." Despite his misgivings, Ben did.

Mycroft, as it turned out the man's name was, apparently had a 'minor position in the British government' which Ben believed about as much as he believed the moon is made of cheese - which is to say, not at all. Met with his skepticism, the man soon amended his policy and admitted the truth. He ran an alternative to MI6 and Blunt's iron fist. He was there to offer Ben a job, if he wanted it. Ben pretended not to worry about how the man knew he had quit and told him he would consider it. "Don't take too long." He knew he would take it before he walked out the door. Mycroft knew he would take it before he had picked up the phone.

His new job with MI5 was better in many ways than is job under Blunt though he operated in much the same capacity. The only thing he missed was the easy camaraderie of the SAS and K-unit. His old workmates crossed his mind more frequently and he remembered Alex. Alex who had been dragged into spying at 15 and passed basic training at the same age. Alex who had lost all the family he had to MI6. Alex who no longer worked for Blunt but no one knew why. He waited until he was sent to the Bank to snoop further. After passing across a bag of peppermints, he asked Mrs Jones for information and she was happy to oblige. "He's in America. Some rich family he rescued from Scorpia adopted him. I think they were called 'Pleasure'." Ben highly doubted her flippant tone was genuine.

It was less than six months later, on a mission in Mongolia of all places, that he saw Alex again. He'd grown, obviously, and his hair had been dyed to match the common colouring of the natives but Ben knew him. The explosion as he left the compound gave it away. Ben could hear him frantically trying to get a response to his call for back-up. Ben picked up his gun and began shooting down the closest pursuers. Half an hour later, Alex himself found Ben's hiding spot in the rocks and brought a hoard of human traffickers with him. "Hey, Ben, long time no see." Ben snorted and loaded his gun again. "Chuck that over here and try getting some help from your end." He complied and Alex checked it before picking his pursuers off with grim efficiency. Ben was left to get an extraction team in, his mission now FUBAR.

The mission debrief was interesting. Mycroft and Blunt occupied the same room for 20 minutes and left it with an overwhelming feeling of too much power in too small a space. The end result was wat Ben had been expecting anyway: a suspension from active missions pending the results of the investigation. Alex was made conspicuous by his absence. A fact made clear when he was informed they were no longer allowed on missions in the same country and cold certainly no longer operate together. He tried not to be disappointed. Alex was good company.