Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!
-I'm doing my best to stick to canon. Bite me, Horowitz continuity.
-Also, 80's technology confuses me. The computer-y stuff is probably not accurate, but I tried. Comment for edits.
-John and Helen Rider have been hiding in an MI6 safe house since Albert Bridge, except the Christening, and not allowed to leave. They were seen then, and Scorpia is waiting to make their move. There only contact with the outside world is with Ian, Ash, the nanny, and Blunt, who delivers them needed items, such as grocery and things, personally.
Chapter 10: Luck of the Devil
June 27th, 1987
One month later, I return from Panama. Because of OSA, I can't share any details, except that it was successful. The temperate summer fog of London is a shock to my system, as I roll in from 27° Panama with a deep golden tan. The first thing I do after Blunt's debriefing is head over to John and Helen's house. Blunt says that they were waiting to say goodbye to me before they left with Alex to Marseilles, France. I am grateful for the snippet of information.
"Thank you, Mr. Blunt." I turn to leave. Just as my hand touches the handle, I turn around. "Mr. Blunt?" O sigh, "I'm sorry I've been so on-edge lately. Things have been insane with John and Helen, and I haven't been able to properly handle the stress. I-I just-"
"It's all over now, Agent Rider," Blunt nods, accepting my apology, "For better, or for worse."
As I drove over to John's house, I considered what Blunt said. Yeah, it would suck not seeing my family anymore, but we could manage. I would see them again someday, I'll make sure of it. Honestly, though, it will be nice not to have any more distractions. I could really get back into the swing of MI6 things, and work my way up. Maybe even get a promotion a few years down the road. Yes. this is best for all of us. John, Helen, and Alex get a new life, away from Scorpia, and I will be able to focus on my job more. Also, I won't have to see Ash anymore, so that's a plus.
Speaking of Ash, Smithers told me that Blunt really chewed him out after the clusterfuck that was Mdina. There are rumors he's that he was axed and is looking for work elsewhere. I'm okay with this. I need a fresh start.
I don't know. I'm just in a weird place right now, emotionally. I'm relieved to be home from the mission, and happy that it went well. I'm upset that my family is leaving for France, indefinitely. However, I'm pleased that they will be safe. I want Alex to grow up with a father, so I'm glad that John is getting out of the field for good.
When I arrive at John and Helen's, it's chaotic, as per usual. Boxes line the walls, filled with tokens of John, Helen, and Alex's lives. Baby Alex, now almost 3 months old, is wailing, loudly. Helen and what appears to be a nanny are desperately trying to calm the boy down, but nothing they try is working out. The screaming continues, as I find John in his bedroom. I stand in the door frame, arms crossed, arms crossed with my back against the wall. He is sitting, staring at his shoes. His head is in his hands and his eyes look moist.
"John, brother, what's up?"
He looks up, unsurprised to see me. "Ian," he chokes out.
"John, what's wrong?"
"Tomorrow. We're leaving, Little Brother, for good. I may damn well never see you again."
"Come on John. We totally will," I say, not quite believing it myself.
"How? Scorpia is crawling up my ass. They will kill me if they so much as glimpse me. I'll never be able to come back home to England. Hell, I'll probably need plastic surgery, as will Alex, because he got the misfortune of inheriting my looks."
"Yeah," I deadpan, "Poor kid looks just like you. Misfortune is correct. If the kid had any sense at all, he'd look like Helen. Plastic surgery will be the only way to save him from that trauma."
John doesn't laugh. Instead, he yells. "How the hell can you joke at a time like this?"
I am taken aback. This is the first time that John, my older brother by a mere 18 months, has ever yelled at me. Not even over petty things when we were children has he ever raised his voice at me. I can't help but let a tear fall down the side of my face. "John. I'm sorry. I am just trying to make light of a shitty situation. This isn't goodbye." I struggle to get that last part out.
"Ian, I'm sorry," John gets up and puts a hand on my left shoulder. "I am incredibly stressed out, because we are fleeing the country tomorrow, and my infant son just came down with an ear infection and may not even be able to come. I'm really stressed out, and I'm being a dick by taking it out on you, and I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I sigh, and we hug it out. "You are a dick, though."
"Forever and always," John laughs.
Having to get the last word, I say: "Now you'd best hope that Alex didn't inherit that trait of yours too." John laughs again, leading me to the kitchen, where Helen is desperately trying to feed a screaming Alex.
I reach over to hug her and am rewarded with Alex spitting something mushy and green onto my arm. I pat the top of his head with my non-green hand. "Thanks, buddy," I say to my nephew, laughing. Looking at John, I deadpan: "Maybe your son did inherit the, um, trait that we discussed earlier." John rolls his eyes, while Helen looks on, confused. She knows us well enough by now to not ask questions.
"So," I say, addressing the elephant in the room, "How will we spend our last night together? I vote that the three of us get plastered and tell embarrassing stories about John Rider." I cackle.
"Yeah, I'm down," John cracks a smile. I'm glad he's feeling better.
"H?" I ask. She'll probably be the hard one to convince, as she has a sick baby.
"Sounds great, actually," she admits, to my surprise. Addressing the nanny, she asks, "Maude, do you mind watching Alex tonight? Preferably in his bedroom."
"Of course not, Helen," Maude replies in a deep Irish accent. She smiles at Alex, whisking him off to bed.
"Hell yes, H!" I exclaimed, hugging her tightly, "Nothing like a little alcohol to wash all your problems away."
John rolls his eyes. "Ian, with you, it's always more than a 'little alcohol.'"
"Well obviously it's going to be an obscene amount of drinking, we are getting plastered tonight." I shoot back. "Also, I'm in charge of food, drinks, the works." Looking at John, I ask "How exactly do you contact Blunt to buy your food and shit?" John explains to me that there is a notebook. When he writes on it, the writing shows up on Blunt's identical notebook.
John eyes me, suspiciously. "Why, Ian?"
"No reason," I say innocently. "I just think that the drinks are on Blunt."
"He's going to kill you," John laughs.
"Probably, but by the time he's done lecturing, I'll be too drunk to care."
"Touché," John shrugs.
I write down a list to Blunt, childishly signing it 'Your favorite Agent, Ian Rider:) Yes, I actually drew the face.
Two hours later, Blunt arrives with two bottles of vodka.
"The only reason I did this for you, Ian, is so I can see you at work tomorrow, nice and hungover. 8 a.m works for me." Bloody sadist.
"Love you, Boss," I blow a kiss. Blunt rolls his eyes.
"8a.m., Agent Rider."
Blunt walks over to Helen, shaking her hand. "Mrs. Rider, I want to formally apologize for treating you poorly. I was stressed, and you did not deserve it." Helen nods. Damn. A Blunt apology. Someone's feeling emotional.
"And John," Blunt sighs, pulling my older brother in for a hug, "I'll miss you over at Royal and General. You were one of the best agents MI6 ever had." Blunt looks over at me. "Also, John, you were always so well behaved. Unlike your delinquent brother over there."
I laugh.
Blunt continues, ignoring me. "Good luck, John, and if you or your family ever need anything, and I do mean anything, talk to me. Goodbye, Agent Rider." Blunt says, using John's 'work-name' for the very last time. Blunt saluted John and left.
John was crying. "Damn, did Blunt and I just have a 'moment?'"
"I think you did," I laugh.
John sighs, heavily. "Let's drink."
A few drinks later…
"So we're at our Great-aunt Jane's house, horrible women-she smelled like mothballs and hated John and I-anyways, she fed John and I the most disgusting tuna salad sandwiches. So John decides to feed them to this big, fat cat she had. About an hour later, we were watching TV with Jane, and the cat threw up this smelly tuna mix all over her. It was horrible," I laugh, collecting myself, "So John says, 'Hey Auntie, I think you've got a little tuna on your everywhere.' So Jane is screaming at John, while I'm laughing my ass off on the far end of the couch. Jane got so pissed at us because we wouldn't admit we'd done anything wrong, so she phoned our mum to come to collect us. However, and I didn't notice at the time, John had only fed the cat my sandwich. He had buried his own in Jane's potted plant. Well, we ate lunch there every other Sunday, and by the next week, the entire house reeked. Jane had to move, it smelled so bad, and she brought the plant with her. It took her a year, and three separate houses before she finally realized that there was rotten tuna at the bottom of her plant," I struggle to breathe, I am laughing so hard, "And," I conclude, "That is when I learned never to cross John Rider." By now, everyone is drunk, carefree, and laughing their asses off. It's the best I've felt in ages.
"I've got one," Helen smirks, "So, in college when John and were first starting to date, he invites me over to his dorm, saying that he 'needs my help dealing with an awkward situation.' I had no idea what to expect, but I go down anyways. So, I get to the dorm, and I hear a horrible squealing noise. It turns out, for John's 22nd birthday, which was the night before and the last time I'd seen him, he and his mates got toasted and bought 22 hamsters to celebrate. Seriously, these things were everywhere. It took 4 hours to find them all." Helen laughs at the memory.
"I only vaguely remember that," John admits, laughing, "I must have been shitfaced."
"You were," Helen laughs at her husband.
"I've got one about Ian." John laughs.
Helen looks at the clock. It's almost 3a.m. "One more, John, then I'm going to bed. Ian, are you still crashing here?"
"Yeah, that'd be great."
"Anyways," John begins, "When Ian was about 15, he brought a girl home for the first time."
"Oh, shit," I laugh, remembering this story. "Her name was Samantha Caldwell."
"Right, Samantha," John continues, "So anyway, Ian decides to cook her dinner. Mind you, this knucklehead has never prepared anything more than a bowl of oatmeal."
"15-year-old Ian Rider was very overconfident in his abilities," I laugh.
"Was?" John asks, sarcastically. "Stop interrupting me, damnit! Okay, so Ian, being the fool he is, decides to make spaghetti with tomato sauce. However, he has no idea how to do this. First, he pours a jar of sauce into a pot on the stove. Then, he pours an entire box of pasta into the pot and pours some cheese on top. He leaves it there for about 30 minutes. What he comes back to is a massacre. The pasta burnt and stuck to the bottom of the pot. The sauce bubbled up and splashed all over the stove, and the cheese burnt and caught fire. Let's just say that the Spaghetti incident of '59 ended with Samantha leaving because she was splashed in the face by burning hot sauce while helping clean up, 3 hours of cleaning, another 2 hours of mum lecturing Ian, and mandatory cooking lessons for a month."
"Is that why you would always order takeout when you would come over while John was gone?" Helen asks, suspiciously.
I try to answer her, but tears are streaming down my face, and I'm laughing my ass off, so I just settle for a nod.
"Okay, boys, I'm going to bed," Helen laughs. Eyeing me, she says "Ian, try not to burn the house down." She gets up to leave.
John and I begin cleaning the remnants of our little party, in silence.
"I'm really going to miss you, brother," I say. "You had better keep in touch with me. Let me know what's going on in your life, and send pictures of Alex."
"Only of Alex?"
"Well, Helen too, of course. Let's face it, John, you're not getting any cuter."
He laughs. "Thanks. You have to update me too. You know, with big milestones, like you learning to cook, or getting a girlfriend or something."
"John, there's something that's been bugging me, for months now," I changed the subject. I could almost feel the lighthearted nature leave the room, "Who exactly is Julia Rothman?"
My brother groaned. "She's the only woman on the executive board of Scorpia."
"Wow," I tease, "Johnny likes powerful women."
"I didn't do anything with her, I wouldn't cheat on Helen. We just had dinner a few times, and that's all."
"Goodnight, John,"
"See you in the morning, Ian."
June 28th, 1987
The next morning, John and Helen wake me up at 6:30. I feel like shit. They are leaving in an hour to catch their flight to France. I have to leave in an hour to face Blunt at work today. Little Alex will be staying with Maude, because his doctor, someone who MI6 brought in, says that he isn't allowed to fly. Helen is upset and wants to stay with her baby, but John convinced her that it would be best for everyone if Alex stayed home for a week, and they were already set up in France.
Unfortunately, it's time for John and Helen to leave. I hug Helen first.
"Good luck in France, H, I love you."
"Aww, Ian, thank you for everything."
I look over at John, He's crying a little, Helen is crying a little more, and I'm crying a lot.
"Goodbye, big brother."
"I'll see you on the other side, little brother."
They say goodbye to Alex, and then he, Maude, and I wave them off.
I say goodbye to Maude and Alex, promising to return before they left for France for a proper goodbye. I get in my car and leave for work. I get there at 7:45. As I walk to my office, Blunt laughs at me. "Rough night, Agent Rider?"
Around 10 o'clock, Blunt calls me into his office. I can tell that he is very upset about something, but is trying to hide it. He turns his computer towards me. "Watch this, Agent Rider."
I do as I'm told. On Blunt's screen is CCTV footage of a secret airport. A man and a woman walk up to the plane. The footage is of a low quality, but I quickly recognized the figures as my brother and sister-in-law. John helps Helen into the plane before climbing in after her. A few minutes later, the plane takes off. I watch intently as it lifts off into the air. However, the plane doesn't get very far. Seconds after it leaves the ground, it is consumed in a fiery explosion of yellow, orange, and red. Nothing survives. No one survives.
I look over at Blunt. He is crying. Alan Blunt is crying. Why is Alan Blunt crying?
Then, it hits me like a bus. John and Helen are dead. My loving big brother and his amazing wife are dead. Gone. I will never see them again. I will never hear Helen's laughter, or John's sarcasm again. I will never see their beautiful young faces in person again. I will never hear updates about their lives again because they just ended.
I am in shock. I can't move. I can't breathe. My brother is dead. Helen is dead. I am alone. Alex is alone. Oh my god, Alex. His parents are gone. What will become of him? His parents are dead. Alex is alone.
Somehow, another thought surfaces in my jumbled brain. Looks aren't the only thing that Little Alex inherited from his father. That ear infection saved his life. Alex inherited his father's Luck of the Devil.