A/N: I know this took forever to put up, so sorry.

Warning: There is cursing in this chapter. Ian's a bitter MI6 agent that finds out his brother is dead. Expect some cursing throughout the fic, folks.

ARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARAR

To me, there are three types of SAS teams. With the first, they recognize that what I do is different from what they do and, well, they don't really care either way. The second is the type of team that worships me, or rather the idea of me, usually because they got thier lives saved by an MI6 agent at some point in thier career. These types are few and far between, but they exist.The third type despises me for what I do, and thinks I'm a spook and have never said an honest word in my life. Well, I can't really blame them. Espescially with people like Blunt and Jones running things.

The third type is the type that was in the helicopter with me. It's a couple of hours by helicopter from Germany to London, so we had plenty of time, aftter they patched me up, to socialize.Or rather I had time to get stared at by the SAS men that hated my guts. It really made for an uncomfortable ride.

Which was why I was happy to get off that damned helicopter. Untill I realized that we were at the Royal&General bank. I mean, I was still bleeding, and my beloved employers couldn't let me go home for two miniutes? I guess they couldn't, seeing as I had information they needed, but still.

Once we got to Blunt's office the SAS troopers left. I sat down in front of Blunt's desk and waited to be debriefed. Then Blunt surprised me, which is a hard thing to do.

"Your brother and his wife died in a plane crash."

I sat there, openmouthed. John and Helen? Dead? Not possible. No, it couldn't be. I mean my brother was one of MI6's best fucking agents ever. He couldn't be dead.

I carefully made sure my face wasn't showing any of my thoughts.

"No." It was all I could manage to say.

Now Ms. Jones spoke up: " I'm afraid so, Ian. Now, this raises the question of where John's baby is to go."

Blunt, typically, interupted her: "We have decided that Alex is to stay with you."

I laughed. Don't get me wrong, I was devastated about my brother, but still. Little Alex, stay with me? They had to be pulling my leg. Then I remembered that I was talking to Aan Blunt. While he might hire people to pull off terrorists legs, joking wasn't on the menu for him.

I looked at him. Then I blew up.

"You're sending an infant to live with me? And do what, take him on missions with me? What the hell, why not just give him a gun while you're at it! I can't take care of a kid."

"Ian, calm down. For the first three days, we will be sending a trained official to teach you about child-care. You will do this. Now, about your mission."

I was momentarilly thrown by the change of subject, but there was no point in arguing.

"It's exactly as we thought. The group is making some kind of biological weapon."

"Well, then, I will expect your full report on my desk by tomorrow. You may go home and meet your ward now."

ARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARAR

The drive home was painfull. Not only because of my injuries, which Blunt seamed to take no notice of. It was the realization that John was really dead. This time he wasn't just gone on a mission where it was a possibility he could die. He was actually dead. And as for Helen, she was never really part of any of this. Of course there was a risk marrying an MI6 agent, but she was still a civvie.

I pulled up to my house and immidiatly noticed the changes. There was a big moving van out front. Harold and Frod's Movers. One of MI6's many "fake" companys.

When I opened the front door and walked into the living room, a woman stood there. I suppose she was quite pretty, but I only had eyes for what she held in her arms. Baby Alex.

"He looks so much like John," I whispered.

The woman turned around and looked me up and down before saying: "You must be Ian Rider. If I may ask, why all the blood and bruises?"

I stared at her blankly. So she didn't know. MI6 would send someone that didn't know about my job?

"You are Ian Rider, aren't you?"

I got my voice back.

"Yes, that's me. I assume you're here to, well, teach me how to take care of a child?"

"Why else would I be here? Now, you go get cleaned up. You're in no condition to hold an infant."

I went into the kitchen and got my first-aid kit. Well, an extremely advanced first-aid kit, considering I had high-end painkillers, anti-depressants, and even emergency weapons in it.

As I patched myself up, I had my second delayed-reaction realization of the day. I was responsible for Alex. I had to feed, clothe and take care of him. Wow.

ARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARAR

Sigh. I didn't really like this chappie. So much filler. Anyway, the woman isn't Jack, she appears much later.

Question: do we want to see a lot of baby alex or move forward to the terrible two's fairly quickly?