Hold Me While I'm Here

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.

Chapter 1: Brother's Blood

"En garde, monsieur."

The enemy smirked, drawing his sword ready. Ian lowered his, preparing for the strike. The metallic clang reverberated in the hall as Ian brought down his sword on the enemy, but his blow was deflected by the enemy's sword. Trying not to notice the enemy's face, Ian drew back his sword again, but the enemy was quicker, bringing down his sword on his shoulder. Luckily, Ian rolled out of the way in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. He tried to slash the enemy's legs, bringing his sword to the fullest height, but the enemy brought down his sword directly on his back. The whole world spun. The enemy looked surprisingly shocked, presumably shocked by what he had done. But why should he be? He had killed thousands before… He was cold blooded… But why did he look exactly like John?

And why, was he defeated the same way every time he and John dueled years ago? Memories flooded back…

(A/N: That was a short prologue. Now remember that, for we're going to move on into Ian's childhood memories, to when he became a secret agent, and then his recent memories, lastly back to the scene in the prologue. Hope you understand what I mean. If you don't, just ask me in your reviews, I will PM you with my answers, or answer you in my next chapter.)

Flashback

"Come on, Ian! Let's duel! Here, I'll pass you your sword…"

Ian was fifteen, and his brother John was seventeen. Both were holding their swords ready.

"En garde, monsieur."

John laughed and smirked. Ian lowered his sword, preparing for the strike. The metallic clang reverberated in the hall as Ian brought down his sword on John, but his blow was deflected by the John's sword. Tying not to notice the smirk on John's face, Ian drew back his sword again, but his brother was quicker, bringing down his sword on his shoulder. Luckily, Ian rolled out of the way in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. He tried to slash John's legs, bringing his sword to the fullest height, but John brought down his sword directly on his back.

"If this sword wasn't a fake, and you aren't wearing protective pads, say goodbye," smiled John.

"As enemies, to death, we'll duel. You're lucky I'm your brother, Ian, or you're dead meat."

"But as for brothers, together, we dwell," said Ian, bringing up his sword and slashing John's protective pad on his right shoulder.

"Hey, that rhymes! Well done, Ian!"

"It sounds pathetic," said Ian, dropping into a corner, looking exhausted. "It's nice being recruited at such an early age, but I really wonder why M16 wants us to learn this stupid sword fighting. It's of no use. For example, who carries a sword everywhere they go? A gun would be more efficient."

"Sure," said John, joining his brother sitting in the corner. He allowed his sword to drop onto the floor with a clang. "But I think sword fighting is cool. You go like this-" John swished an imaginary sword-"And then like this-"

"Stop the nonsense, John. You know, anyone that is watching would assume that I am the older one of both of us. You are so childish."

"Ian!" squealed John in a most undignified manner. "I am taller than you! My sword techniques are better than you, and I'm a better agent than you! Not to mention my shooting aims… you should have seen me beat my senior. My senior, Ian! Wow, I'm impressed of myself!" Ian rolled his eyes.

"I'm thirsty," said Ian.

"So am I," answered John. "And as you know, Ian, the loser buys the drinks."

"So? Go on ahead, John. And remember, I want Coke, not that horrid supermarket cola."

"You are the loser, Ian. I won the match again, remember?"

"No you did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"I'm the mature one," said Ian and got up to buy them drinks grudgingly.

Six years later…

"We are sorry to inform you of the death of your brother, John Rider, who was killed instantly in a plane crash earlier today. Please report immediately to Mr. Blunt first before further…"

"No," said Ian aloud. John could not be dead… John had just ended his Scorpia mission… he could not have died, it was a success, a complete success… John always had the luck of the devil, he would not be so unfortunate and die in a plane crash. Almost certain that it was a nightmare; Ian pulled on his cloak and hurried out of his office.

"I'm sorry about this, Ian," said Mr. Blunt as soon as Ian burst into his room. "But it so happens that Scorpia knew who John was in the end. They planted a bomb in the plane, and it…"

"But I thought it was a plane crash?" asked Ian, his stomach sinking horribly.

"No, it wasn't. That was just a cover-up. I'm afraid you're needed at the airport to see your brother for the last time…"

"Isn't he in hospital?!" roared Ian. "Send an ambulance… he can be saved!"

"Many ambulances arrived," said Mr. Blunt. "As many of those standing beside the plane were injured. But as for those in the plane, there were no chances… everything became ashes… even the plane itself is hardly recognizable… come on, Ian, come with me…"

As Ian stepped down from the car, he saw the wreckage of the burning plane almost instantly. Everything was ashes, and so were his hopes. Hiding his rebellion tears, he turned away…

Another five more years later…

Ian sighed as he emerged from his couch. He still remembered the awful day of John's death. If John were alive, today would be his twenty-eighth birthday, on the 28th of January. And there was Alex, forever reminding him of John. Alan had promised to recruit him when Alex was fifteen, on the same age when Ian himself was recruited for four years of training.

"Good morning, Ian!" cried Alex cheerily from the stairway.

"Alex," smiled Ian. "Come here."

Alex seated himself comfortably on Ian's lap.

"Do you know that today is a special day?"

Alex nodded. "It's a Sunday."

"Yeah, I know it's a Sunday, but do you know what makes it special?"

Alex looked sad. "My late father's birthday."

"You remember?"

Alex nodded. "I make him presents every year," he said. "Although I know he won't receive them."

Ian laughed. It was nice to feel that he wasn't the only one sad because of John's death. "It doesn't matter about the gift or that whether the gift will reach the person, Alex. All that matters is your true feeling in your heart. If you do really love your father, even though you do not know him, you don't need to give him presents, for your love for him, I'm sure, is the best present for him in heaven."

"Dad's really in heaven?" asked Alex.

"I'm sure he is, because I've never met a better man than John in the entire world, Alex."

"Wow…"

"I'm leaving tomorrow, Alex, to America. You may not see me for a long time, but I'm sure you'll get along with Jack."

Alex was surprised at the abrupt change of topic. "How long will you be gone?"

"Years," smiled Ian sadly. "Years and years, until I've repaid my debt to your father."

"You have a debt to my father?"

"Yes, Alex. But you will still hear from me, through letters or phone calls, if you wish."

"But… when exactly are you coming back?"

"I don't know, Alex. I'm not returning until my debt to your father is paid. But don't worry, Alex. You'll be fine with Jack, I'm sure."

"Can I see you off in the airport?"

"No, Alex. It'll just be more difficult. But you can bid me goodbye tonight before you go to sleep, for I'm leaving tomorrow at dawn."

"I'll wake up at dawn to see you off."

"No, Alex, it will affect your health and sleep. Just bid me goodbye tonight and…"

Ian paused, looking into the teary eyes of his nephew.

"I'll miss you, Ian."

A/N: Yeah, I know, one boring chapter. Have you ever noticed that all my first chapters are boring? I'm sure you did. I am so sincerely sorry.

I apologize again for deleting both those stories I posted, but I found a better way to start off my story, so I'm afraid those stories had to go.

Anyway, I promise you that I won't delete this story, unless I have better ideas (not likely to happen), or unless you too think that the story is stupid.

Review for short if you are lazy:

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'X' for TERRIBLE.