The Rider line is an impressive one, and, even left to its own devices, it never is exactly ordinary. Some would say Fate were the cause, others genetics. Who knows, truthfully, when the cause must be no less confusing than the effect?
This story will be comprised of several chapters of oneshots, each of the next member along in the family line, starting just after Alex. There will be connections and links, but ultimately each chapter will be entirely about one individual with little follow-on, until everything comes together at the very end. May not take the paths you expect.
Arthur was six by the time he was really asking questions. He had previously wondered why, in the stories, there was a mummy bear and a daddy bear and then a little bear, but he only had a mummy. He would frown a little at those bits of the story, but carry on listening to his mum read anyway.
When he had finally asked, on his birthday, after his friends and their mummies and daddies had left the house, his mum had sat him on her lap, hugged him, and told him that his father had wanted to, but hadn't been able to stay with them, though she assured him that he really had wanted to.
Arthur asked what had happened, but his mum shook her head, and told him he'd find out someday.
When he was ten, Arthur Leighton had asked again multiple times, but got the same response. Frustrated, and with the desire to punch things, he joined a martial arts group, learning Karate. He took to it quickly, learning fast and taking delight in pummelling the punching bags.
In secondary school, he could do the academic subjects, but found them rather pointless. He took to the sports side of things with ease, however, being good at most things but specialising as a Central Defensive Midfielder in football, playing as the person who was always available, in space, ready to thread passes and make interceptions. He had the right attributes for the position too; control, an eye for a pass, understanding of the game, and good reading of the ball in the air.
It was around that time, too, that his mother told him the truth.
She had never really known his father. She had been at a club, not quite drunk but getting there. He had been there too, handsome, young, and looking undeniably sad, sipping a shaken Martini and not really looking at anything.
She had wandered over, spoken, brought him a couple more drinks, and they ended the night at her house.
She had woken up at six the next morning, but she was alone. There had been a note on the bedside table:
I apologise for both coming and leaving like this. I was having a moment of mounting stress and wanted to have some form of outlet. I apologise for the fact that it had to be you. In my line of work we call it a mid-life crisis, though I'm not sure you'll get the joke.
To add weight to my apology, and in case complications arise, I am leaving a substantial amount of money in the kitchen, on the table. It is all real, and untraceable, as it's in cash, and I am not attempting to con you, merely to rid myself of my shame at losing control of myself enough to let what happened happen.
Please do not attempt to return it, it will do neither of us any good.
AR
Jean Leighton had shown Arthur the note, and told him that there had been thousands on that table, enough to, combined with the money and maternity allowance from her accountancy job, move them to the higher quality region of Chelsea, where they now lived.
She had chosen to keep the baby in honour of the man's generosity, and because she now felt slightly lonely herself, as she said.
Arthur wondered for a few days as to what sort of a person would have that short a life expectancy, that much money, and still be willing to give it away, not to mention who would be so frustrated over losing control. He could only come up with one option; undercover police officer.
After picking up a GCSE and an A-level in P.E., (Physical Education (sports)), as well as a first grade black belt, Arthur Leighton joined the Metropolitan Police.
He looked like his father, his mother said, whenever she saw him in uniform.
From that, he deduced that his father had brown hair, brown eyes, and held himself tall and proud. He liked the description.
On the job one day, a raid on an area of suspected smuggling activity of various types, Arthur, aged twenty-five, had heard gunfire in the area before they broke in. When they did so, guns forwards, with yells of "This is the police! Put your hands up and throw down your weapons!" and so on, there was no response but for six of the men to run out of the back door (which was being covered by another team) and the other two to attempt to chase them.
Arthur had managed to grab one of the men by the shoulder, but the guy just held up a badge, cool as anything. "MI6," he said.
When the others had been apprehended, no casualties to either side, the contents of the warehouse were found to include enough guns and ammunition for half an army.
They had waited with the agents for support to come, and a man with short black hair fading to grey had stepped out of a Mercedes five minutes later. He was healthy for his age, which seemed to be around fifty-five.
He had walked forwards, hand extended, with the introduction of, "Agent Benjamin Daniels, MI6 SO. Here with the Official secrets act for you gentlemen." He spoke like an army man of some description.
Arthur stepped forwards, to shake the extended hand. "Arthur Leighton, commander of this rabble."
He had expected - what? A smile, maybe? - but he received an expression of shock, almost recognition from the MI6 man.
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Strange.
The men had signed the papers, sealing their lips, but Arthur had all but forgotten about the weapons by the next day, busy wondering why he had overheard the man named Daniels muttering incessantly into a mobile to someone named "Wolf" about someone named "Cub."
Two raids later, he found a wife.
While Arthur Leighton very much lived for the moment, Danielle Fey had a far calmer lifestyle that evened his own out. Normally, at any rate.
She had been held hostage against her rich father, a Lord of some kind, though the kidnappers couldn't have known that he'd disowned her the moment she decided to do something with her life and went into the world of work, finding a job that eventually led to her becoming one below the CEO of a major advertising company.
He'd met her in the rescue, and they'd met up afterwards.
And it was two years into their relationship that he proposed, and one year after that, the baby was born.
Sorry people, but that will be the last cameo from any real characters. They'll all be dead or old too soon for more!
Hope you liked it! More on the way!