A/N

I happened to be in the mood for some 39 clues last night, and this one line caught my eyes...tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Don't own. Wish I did.

The Homing Poodles

Ian was scared.

He was alone, lost in the maze of lush greenery that surrounded the Kabra estate. He had been playing hide-and-seek with the caretaker, since mother was too busy taking care of Natalie and who knows where Father was. Not that either of them would encourage or engage in such frivolous activities. The second the nanny's back was turned to begin counting, Ian had run into the grounds, ignoring his mothers offhand warning. At first, his small 6-year-old body had been buzzing with excitement, and adrenaline rushed through his veins, causing his miniature legs to pump faster than he'd ever gone before, a large smile dominating his face.

After stumbling through several bushes and pushing his way through the rough underbrush, his cloths had been in tatters, but he hadn't been worried. His nanny always managed to find a way to sneak past his mother's watchful eye, and the two of them had become quite the mischief makers. After scanning the scene carefully, Ian had spotted the perfect hiding spot; a wiry old sycamore tree that had obviously been neglected by the groundkeepers. Its branches formed a cocoon around its sturdy trunk, making a hidden perch just small enough for the boy to hide behind. Quickly, Ian scrambled up the branches, his adventurous nature delightedly spurring him on until he was hidden on a high branch almost invisible to the naked eye.

The first half-hour had been spent with Ian keeping a small fist pushed in his mouth to smother his ecstatic giggles, his small body having rarely felt such freedom from his mothers strict rule, fully content to soak up as much of it as he could. He relished the open air, thick black locks falling into his eyes as he whipped his head back and forth, happily watching as beautiful birds flew by on their majestic wings, wishing he could be as daring as them.

Slowly, his adrenaline faded with the sinking sun and he began to worry. Usually, his nanny found him within the first hour, her eyes as quick as her mind. But it had already been two hours, according to Ian's designer watch. To calm his uneasy mind, Ian told himself he would wait another half hour before leaving his hiding spot and heading back.

The sky was steadily turning blacker and it was becoming harder to see. Ian glanced at his watch, noticing that another hour had gone by. He decided to give up, slowly crawling back down the tree, his stomach twisting itself in painful knots as it begged for food. Just before he climbed all the way down, his small hand had slipped off the smooth branch he had been clinging to and Ian fell down backwards with a yelp, landing painfully on his back.

He felt a woosh of air leave his lungs and remained still, his chest rising in short, painful gasps as he attempted to reclaim the air he had lost. Finally, after his dizzy head had stopped pounding, Ian managed to sit up carefully, crying out in pain as his ribs protested angrily. I'll sit here for a few minutes, Ian thought to himself, rubbing his aching chest with a wince.

Soon enough, a light drizzle began and Ian shivered, pulling himself to his feet and carefully tucking his trembling hands into his arm pits (he'd read somewhere that it was supposed to conserve body heat). Sniffling, he stumbled in the direction he thought was the house. His body began trembling harder as lighting arced though the sky, illuminating the greenery briefly before fading back to black. Hurriedly, Ian pulled his hands out and stuffed them in his ears, knowing what would happen next.

BOOM!

Ian barely held back a scream, wincing as he tasted the coppery blood from his bit tongue. His trek turned into a jog, which hurriedly turned into a sprint as lightning flashed again and the thunder growled at him, roaring in rage over and over and over again. The rain began pounding down on his exposed head, its meaty fists attacking every exposed part of his body and drenching his lightweight cloths in seconds. His body shook even harder as the cold began to seep into his very bones, and his eyes began to tear up. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out everything, running blind.

A few moments later, he felt his foot catch on something with a very painful snap. Ian screamed, his body landing on the ground with a painful thump, but it wasn't even close to the agony he felt in his foot. Someone was still screaming, and Ian pried his eyes open, looking for the source; only to realize that it was him making the tragic noise.

Sobbing, Ian pulled himself forward, his ankle absolutely screaming with pain as it bumped up and down with his movement. The rain came down even harder, and the sky was howling at him, the wind yanking on his hair painfully, and Ian did something he'd never done before; he gave up. His mother would have been so disappointed in him; how can you find the 39 Clues if you're too scared to go out by yourself, she would have yelled.

Crying in pain and misery and absolute terror, he dragged himself under one of the exotic trees, taking shelter under it's roots, the canopy of leaves doing little to shield him from the downpour. Slowly, almost against his will, Ian felt the tears come, joining the stream of rain sloshing across the muddy ground. His body shook, and Ian closed his eyes, his mind willing the storm to just go away. The Kabra boy curled into a tight ball, rocking back and forth as he silently cried himself to sleep.

Ian awoke the next morning with a mouth full of teeth snarling at him.

He yelped, jumping backwards from the frothing pink mouth and knocking his head against the tree. Tears once again found their way into his eyes and Ian rubbed his face, trying to will them back.

He bust into tears when the dog barked at him again.

And it wouldn't stop. It kept barking and growling and snapping at him and Ian burrowed himself further back into the tree, huddling into a ball and covering his ears, tears trekking their way down his face once again. He looked up when he heard a faint voice filled with relief cry "Ian, you're ok!" He found himself swept into a tight hug, and a familiar pair of arms wrapped themselves around his trembling body. Ian cried even harder, wrapping his arms around his nanny's neck as she quietly hummed reassuringly, stroking his back comfortingly.

His tears slowly died down, and he managed to meet her worried blue eyes, his still clouded over by tears. She was an angel, Ian decided, burrowing his head into the crook of her neck, refusing to let go. Ian felt her body sag with relief and she shifted him more comfortably into her arms, an exasperated sigh puffing from her lips that quirked up into a small smile. The worry lines on her brow refused to leave, however, as the nanny bit her lip nervously. The Lady Kobra was not pleased with her-but she wouldn't let that stop her from being with her boy. In many ways, Ian was more her son than that woman's; she was too busy with her search for those Clues.

She began the long walk home, rubbing Ian's back and doing her best to ignore the Poodles that were now barking happily since their mission was complete. Sometimes, the Kobras were too thorough.

The second they were in the house the two of them were swarmed by servants and Ian was ushered upstairs by several maids, and the dogs were lured outside by the promise of treats. The sharp snap of the door left the nanny alone with a furious Lady Kabra.

The room was silent, save the rustle of the intricate gown Isabel Kabra had adorned. She stretched out the silence, her smooth features ignoring the nanny as she observed a golden statue. The nanny flinched as Isabel's voice cut through the stillness with the viciousness of a knife. "What were you thinking."

That was all she said. Like a statement, like one would ask about the ruining of a favorite decoration; or a pawn, the nanny snarled in her mind, clenching her fists tightly.

Best not to make the situation bad on Ian, "It was my fault, Lady Kabra. I brought Ian out to the yard to observe the scenery and learn from the natural beauty. I brought him into the grounds, and it was foolish of me to look away; when I looked back, Ian had lost his way. It was entirely my fault, please, I beg for your forgiveness." The nanny bowed low to the ground, doing her best not to express her utter distaste at such a lowly action. But, as it was, Isabel Kabra liked feeling superior, so putting herself down was the best way to appease her.

When Isabel replied, the nanny could practically feel the smirk on her face. "Yes, it was your fault. That was a serious misjudgment on your part, and if not for the homing poodles, could have resulted in a terrible situation. What if Ian had hurt himself"-the nanny nearly snorted, remembering Ian's twisted ankle and inevitable cold-"and been unable to participate in the Clue hunt? I know it means nothing to you, Jessica," Isabel hissed, grinning viciously as the nanny visibly flinched, desperately pushing that forgotten name to the back of her mind, "but the Clue's are everything. A simpleton such as yourself couldn't possibly understand."

"I'm sorry Lady Kabra, it won't happen again," the nanny murmured, still staring at the ground, her fists clenching uselessly at her frayed jeans.

"No it won't," Isabel agreed, clapping her hands sharply. Two servants appeared at the bottom of the stairs, holding an unmistakably familiar piece of luggage. The nanny's eyes widened and one hand found its way to her mouth as she gasped, her eyes tearing up.

"You're-you're firing me," the nanny cried, looking at Isabel in disbelief, shaking her head as Isabel simply waved her hand at her, as if ushering her out. When she refused to move, Isabel simply sighed and clapped again, summoning two of her body guards, who grabbed her arms and forcibly began dragging her out.

"No, you can't!" she cried, struggling against the Kabra's hired bulk, "Ian needs me! He needs a mother, you can't just rip me out of his life!"

Isabel ignored her, choosing to sink into one of the plush armchairs and sip a cup of freshly made tea a maid brought to her on a silver platter with crumpets. The nanny continued shouting and pleading, her arms managing to clutch the doorframe as her wide brown eyes stared at Isabel. "Just let me say goodbye-" Her pleading scream was cut off as the door slammed shut and Isabel rolled her eyes, snagging a crumpet and biting into its warm, buttery goodness.

"Mother?" a quiet voice questioned, and Isabel looked up to see Ian standing in the door uncertainly, dressed in fresh, crisp clothing and leaning on a pair of crutches. Isabel only smiled wider, gesturing for Ian to join her, which he did uncertainly-mother rarely showed such open emotion. He paused a good two feet before her, eyeing her cautiously. Isabel nearly laughed-her son was trained so well.

"Ian, are you feeling alright," she questioned, her fingers curling around her tea cup. Ian blinked a few times before nodding, shifting his weight off his injured foot.

"Where's nanny?" he asked, his eyes searching the room for his pseudo mother.

Isabel waved her hand, trying to dismiss the question. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with, Ian."

"Where's nanny?" he questioned again, his amber eyes trained on his mothers impassive face.

Isabel's eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching slightly as she set down her tea; this was not behavior she had taught him. So, instead of the direct approach, she chose the subtle path. She allowed her lips to relax into a small smile, adjusting her posture just enough to make herself seem more approachable, friendly, someone Ian could trust-it never failed. The effect was instantaneous; Ian's body relaxed as his trained eyes caught the leaving of the threat, and he hobbled his way to his mother at her plea, allowing himself to be picked up by his maternal mother, letting his crutches drop to the floor.

One Ian had been settled on her lap, Isabel began to speak, patting Ian's leg almost sympathetically. "Ian, my child, do you know why your father is always gone?"

Ian's eyes widened as he flinched, biting his lip. "For the Clues, mother?"

"Yes, the Clues," Isabel's eyes glinted dangerously as she dipped her head, acknowledging her sons answer. "The Clues are everything, as you know-they will change the world, and nothing, nothing is more important. That is something you must always remember, Ian, always."

The ebony's eyes flitted about her face, as if searching for something (something he would not find. Isabel Kabra was the best at masking her thoughts and emotions). "Even, even more important than family," Ian whispered, wringing his hands in his lap nervously, eyes downcast.

Isabel curled her delicate fingers under her sons chin, raising his head to meet her steely gaze. "Yes. Nothing is more important, Ian."

The child's eyes dulled, and Isabel nearly crowed at her triumph, "Yes...mother."

A/N

I think I'll probably write a few more chapters...if you like...tell me!

In case you were wondering where the heck I got this from, here ya go! It was the 39 Clues book 3, The Sword Thief, chapter 11, page 93. "We hated growing up there," Ian replied. "Every year one of us would get lost on the lush grounds, and they would have to send the homing poodles after us."

Kisses!

Alyss