Epilogue

Disclaimer: Alas, I still own Alex Rider not.

A/N: I here present to you the final chapter of a fic which has taken me round about three years to complete. Actually that averages out at one chapter a month, which doesn't sound so bad on the surface, but when you consider the length of the earlier chapters and the gaps between some of them…six frickin' months…*headhands*

'Band Together' is like one of those core samples of ice they take from the south pole to check the gas levels over the last thousand years, only instead it's the quality of my writing over the last three years. I think I am *better* than I was then, better being a comparative word. But am I good? That, dear reader, is up to you to decide.

I would like to take this opportunity to shout out to a few people: saremisam17, lately Rider Girl9, who was pretty much my first fan, The Feral Candy Cane, my friend in the fandom, ReillyScarecrowRocks, bubzchoc, CHiKa-RoXy, jesusfreak100percent and anyone else who's been turning up regularly in the review list (if I haven't mentioned you, doesn't mean I don't appreciate and care! There are a lot of reviews to go through here!), deets1 for that time when you reviewed like every chapter, any of my early reviewers who got me through the first leg of the journey, if you're still around, The Ice Within for the final push, and literally EVERYONE who reviewed and gave me the confidence to use OCs. And to completely anonymous reviewer and that other person whom I've lost, whoever you were, both of whom said they didn't like Clara, it's time I confessed:

Clara was my self-insert all along.

That is all.

'Starbucks coffee,' Clara said, 'is always too sweet.'

'Sugar is good for you,' Alex retorted. He took a deep gulp of hot chocolate and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Outside the café people were hurrying up and down the rain-lashed street, and the shop windows were screaming with red posters advertising the January sales, but their table was a haven of quiet and warmth. Alex wondered whether it was Starbucks' atmospheric décor that was responsible, or whether it was more to do with the people he was with.

Roberta was sniggering.

'What?' Alex asked, opening one eye to scowl at her.

'You have whipped cream on your nose,' she smirked.

'I want it with whipped cream on it, baby, gimme gimme gimme your love…' Taylor sang in falsetto. Alex thumped him, touched his tongue to his nose and crossed his eyes at Roberta.

It sounded silly and melodramatic, but over the last few weeks it had been difficult to be apart.

'Alex!' the headmaster of Clara's school had said when Alex and Jack had met with him a few days before the start of term. 'I was under the impression that you would only be with us until Christmas.'

'Yes, I know, Sir…my personal situation's changed and…I'm not really sure what's happening at the moment, honestly, but for now I'd like to carry on here into the new year. If that's alright.'

He still hadn't made up his mind completely about moving. Even though Brookland had been soured by MI6 and all the lies he'd had to tell, it was still Brookland – he'd been going there since he was eleven. And there was Jack to think of, too. Even though London was still a strange city to her, it was more home than some completely unknown town in Essex. There was Tom, James, the old house in Chelsea…if he was ever going to move, it would be hard.

But maybe this was what he needed. A completely fresh start. He could relax into this new school, make other friends, and if MI6 didn't call him again, nothing would spoil it. And if they did…well, at least the Non-Conformists knew the truth.

Alex pushed the big questions away. Right now, at the end of a first week back at school which seemed to have left all the students more exhausted than they'd been before the holiday, it was nice to just be hanging out, drinking Starbucks' special 'seasonal' coffees and pretending it was still Christmas. Josh was sketching on a napkin without much purpose, just controlling the line and enjoying the texture of pastel sliding onto paper. Jane was sitting beside him, her hands curled for warmth around a cup of loose-leaf tea. She sipped the last few mouthfuls and set the cup down.

'Shall we?' Clara said, rising. Taylor got to his feet next, stretching on tip-toe with his hands clasped above his head. It still struck Alex from time to time how tall he was.

Taylor saw him looking. 'Midget,' he grinned, scuffing Alex's hair. Alex beat him off and they stepped out into the street.

'Horrible weather,' Clara said, staring up into the grey sky. Most people were hurrying along without pausing, eager to get out of the cold, but a little way down the road three men were standing still around an Army Jobs stall, hands thrust deep into their pockets. 'I don't envy those guys…hullo?'

'Is that…?' Jane said, peering through the drizzle. 'Hey, Alex, it's your army guys! K Unit!'

They hurried down the street and Alex called out. 'Hey, Ben – Fox! Snake, Eagle!'

The three SAS men turned, and their faces visibly fell. Alex raised an eyebrow.

'Good to see you too,' he said. 'What're you doing?'

'What does it look like?' Ben Daniels growled. He thrust a leaflet at Alex. 'Join the army?'

Something clicked into place in Alex's head. He grinned broadly. 'Recruitment?'

'Oh, shut up, Cub,' Eagle muttered.

'So, your superiors weren't too happy?' Alex asked.

'Bloody hell,' Snake said. "Completely irresponsible…treasonable recklessness…disgrace to the military…" I thought we were going to get shot. Completely humiliating.'

'Ignore it,' Roberta said unexpectedly. 'Bloody megalomaniac-shoot-first-ask-questions-afterwards-control-freak generals. Never act except in accordance with the correct procedure…whatever. As a kidnapping victim, I was satisfied with the response of the SAS.'

'And as an assassination target, so was I,' Clara agreed. 'Though…maybe not at the time. But now I am.'

'It's not so bad,' I suppose,' Snake said. 'Better than getting shot at and we'd probably be somewhere cold and wet no matter what, so…'

Fox interrupted him explosively. 'Of course I prefer handing out leaflets to getting shot at; heck, somebody's got to do it; but I prefer being shot at to being laughed at! God, the lads back at base – '

'And the kids on the street are godawful too,' Eagle said. 'Either wise-arses who go on about why they don't want to be in the army or really dense ones who ask questions…stupid questions. Though actually…' he suddenly chuckled. '…Wolf has it worse.'

'Yeah; where is Wolf?' Alex asked.

'Oh Cub, you're going to love this.' Eagle tapped him on the shoulder, bringing him in closer. The others leaned in as well. 'He's been made a training officer.'

'Training…?' Alex started to smile.

'It's his job to whip all the horrible little brats out of bed and prowl the aisles at breakfast making sure they don't kill each other and yell at them during training when the sergeant's voice-box needs a break. And it is hilarious.'

'Poor chap,' Clara said.

'He complains like anything,' Eagle nodded. 'But actually, I think he's getting quite attached to those kids. It'd be ironic if he'd found his calling, wouldn't it?'

'Very,' Alex agreed. He sighed a little.

Fox caught his mood. 'Hey Cub, don't feel too bad for us, yeah? We got off lightly. And it was a cracking good adventure, wasn't it, chaps?' he added in an exaggerated English accent.

They all laughed, and then waved goodbye to K Unit and tramped on up the street to where Clara's car was waiting.

When they reached her house, there was a letter lying on the doormat.

'Airmail,' Clara said, picking it up. 'Postmark from Austria…'

Alex felt Roberta change posture beside him. Clara, pretending not to notice, slit the envelope open and unfolded the sheets of close-lined, elegant handwriting inside. She flipped to the end and checked the signature, the others looking over her shoulder.

'Yassen,' she said.

It was odd to see the name written out there, in the assassin's own hand. Alex swallowed once, then said,

'Read it out, then.'

Clara sat down at the kitchen table and the others settled around her. 'Um. First there's a little preliminary bit to me…I expect that the house where Alex was staying belongs to MI6, so I will be grateful if you pass it on, blah blah blah…ah, here's the main bit.

' "Dear Alex, Roberta, Taylor, Josh, Clara and Jane,

I apologise for not writing more promptly after I left, but I thought it best to let my trail go cold before I risked communicating. In addition, this letter may have taken a while to reach you, since I have passed it back through a few contacts for safety's sake. I enclose an address to which you may reply, if you feel so inclined.

So, what news? Forgive me; it has been a while since I wrote a purely sociable letter. I will describe my current place of residence to you, since I think you would all enjoy it; in fact it is wasted on me by comparison. With the help of certain friends I made my way to France, and then through the mountains from Switzerland into Austria. I am sure Clara would have been able to make a good story out of the hike, which was…exciting. We skied down to a town which I will not name, where Christmas and New Year celebrations have been in full swing. There are lights, mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, gingerbread, dancing, live music. Snow." '

Roberta took a breath.

' "As I said, you would all be in your element here. I am sure you could knock spots off the group I heard play last night, at least as far as technique is concerned. As regards style, I hope that you will not confine your considerable talents to popular music only." Isn't that gratifying,' Clara interrupted herself. 'That's a point; we could have a little chamber choir going here if we wanted.'

'Oh God,' Alex said. 'Read on.'

' "It is a pleasant place to pause and take stock of what I suppose is a life in ruins, but does not feel like one. There is skiing and ice-skating, which for once do not feel like training, and all the culture one could ask for. I may be dead tomorrow, but then so might any of us, and I find that I do not particularly care. Not because I am tired of life, but because of a thought which occurred to me the last time I was with all of you. It is this: life is there to be spent. All humans preserve themselves carefully from risk, and none more carefully than assassins, but presumably this is so that they will not 'waste' their life on being shot, or run over, and have it to 'spend' on something else. And 'spending,' in the end, involves risk. If one spends one's whole life protecting oneself, one will have little time to spend on anything else. I have decided to stop watching my back and enjoy myself, and if you, Clara, decide that you want to spend your life publishing controversial poetry and being shot at for it, I shall not criticise you."

'Then there's a little note like that to each of us,' Clara finished. She passed the paper to Jane first.

"Jane," she read silently, "it was very astute of you to notice from the callouses on my fingers that I was a violinist. Despite what I said about being tired of watching my back, I still approve of good observation. Have you ever considered working in intelligence?"

'If so, stop now,' Jane added quietly to herself, and handed the letter to Taylor.

"I am fond of music," his note read. "I know what a good voice sounds like. You have one. I wish you good luck in pursuing what I am sure will be an illustrious career in singing."

"Josh, I am impressed."

"Roberta, I would not be good at writing a love note, and I doubt you would be good at receiving one. I will simply say this: you seem to question the worth of the world and life in it, but I assure you they are worth something; you are in them. Even when you don't feel like it, carry on as you are for others' sake; they need your ability and your brilliance."

Alex took the last page of the letter somewhat apprehensively, swallowed and read:

"Having spent a little more time with you, Alex, I think I would approve of you just as much had I not known your father. My regards for the future, and for goodness' sake remember to keep your weight on the back foot when you kick.

"Yassen."

'Well,' Alex said. He folded the letter. It was the last thing he had expected, but his throat felt a little tight. He coughed once and then looked around. 'Um. Philosophical letter.'

'I like him,' Clara said, smiling vaguely.

'You, my dear soprano, are insane,' Taylor said. Clara laughed and looped her arm through his.

'Cool guy,' Josh said. 'Probably evil. Cool guy, though. Fascinating bone structure.'

'I wonder when we'll be seeing him again,' Jane said.

Alex sat up straighter. It had occurred to him that they might, of course, but to hear it suggested so matter-of-factly, as something expected…Clara, however, didn't look surprised at all. As she gazed off into the middle distance, the light caught her eyes for a moment, giving them a bright, sudden gleam.

'Where,' she agreed, 'and under what circumstances?'

Fin

A/N: Oh my holy blibble I can't believe it's over.

I felt that that last chapter fell a little flat, as mushy everything-is-happy-winding-up chapters tend to do (but wouldn't from a real author! *breaks into cold sweat*). If I'd been really on the ball I think I would have had to hint at/set up some new adventure at the end there, but I have no idea what a new adventure would be, so I can't. I think it's likely, however, that you will be hearing from the Non-Conformists again in the future. The next time I can be bothered with an epically long complicated Magnum Opus. Be warned: it will probably be a crossover with some obscure anime, if there is a next time. And have magic in it. Which means that history will be rewritten and the rules will totally change.

And it probably won't happen for ages. And will take ages to happen. Since I have A levels and uni and jobs…

But happen it will! And it will involve Yassen! Clara knows!

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