A/N: I forgot to upload this before the Scorpia chapter, whoops!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider franchise. Anthony Horowitz does.

The words 'WELCOME HOME' were strung up on the wall in bright, metallic plastic letters. A few colourful streamers hung at each end of the phrase, and a cluster of balloons bumped the ceiling above the table.

"Jack, tell me you didn't bake a cake," Ian asked in amusement, as Alex held the door open for him.

The teen grinned. "Well, she wanted to. I convinced her to get one from Tesco instead."

Jack scowled as the Riders snickered over the memory of her last disastrous baking attempt, which had ended with a very flustered Jack and Ian blandly remarking that his pyjamas weren't designed to withstand the nights of London outdoors as a fireman explained to a curious young Alex what the different pipes and pumps on the truck did.

"Such thanks I get for trying to make your homecoming special, Ian," the redhead huffed.

Ian smiled disarmingly. "Thank you, Jack. I appreciate it, really. I'm sure the cake will be wonderful."

Jack narrowed her eyes suspiciously, sure that Ian was still laughing at her, but ushered him to the sofa with a smile. "Would you like to come in, too, Mr. - um, Agent…?"

Ben flashed Jack a smile. "Just Ben'll do, Ma'am."

Jack flushed slightly. "Well then, just call me Jack."

Ian and Alex exchanged dubious glances behind their backs.

"But it depends on Agent Rider," Ben continued graciously, "It's his home, after all."

Ian waved him in irritatedly, "Get in here, Daniels. Just don't eat me out of house and home. I know how much you SAS-types can put away."

"You should," Ben muttered under his breath, sidestepping Ian's protruding crutch.

"Go help Jack with the food, Daniels."

"Ian!" Jack admonished as Ben followed her to the kitchen. "You don't have to -"

"It's fine," Ben replied gently, "I don't mind. Gives the Riders more time to catch up, yeah?"

Jack nodded.

Back in the living room, Ian leaned back into the sofa with a sigh and Alex looked at him curiously, sitting down beside him. "It's the little things you miss," Ian explained, his eyes falling shut, "Never thought I'd miss the cushions on this old thing."

"I thought the cushions were the reason you bought it," Alex replied wryly, "Jack couldn't get over how enthusiastic you were over them when you two went shopping for it."

Ian turned his head to look at him. "Oh, good memory."

The pair fell silent, and then Ian prompted, "Something on your mind?"

Alex scoffed. "My father's brother, who's been dead for over a year just came back to life. Why would there be anything on my mind?"

Ian frowned slightly and nudged the teen. Alex bit his lip. "Why did you join MI6?"

Ian grew impossibly still and Alex immediately regretted his words. "Sorry, I -"

"Cut to right to the heart of things, don't you, lad," Ian said ruefully, forcing himself to relax. "Your mother was a lot like that."

Alex's eyes widened slightly. Ian rarely talked about either of his parents. "Did you know her well?"

"I knew her a fair bit, yes. Perhaps not as well as if she was my own flesh and blood; I always used to think I'd have more time…" Ian broke off for a moment, swallowing past the grief. He continued, "One of the reasons she and your father got on so well was because she never let him get away with anything. She saw through his deflections and right to the heart of the matter. I think it was a bit of a novelty for him, having someone like that."

"Were they… they loved each other?"

Ian smiled in remembrance. "Oh, very much. Anyone who knew them could tell they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. John's entire being would light up when Helen entered the room, and she would always gravitate towards him. It wasn't long after they met that they went from 'John' and 'Helen' to 'John-and-Helen' to their friends, they were inseparable. By the time they got married, the ceremony was just a formality for them. They knew they were going to be with each other forever."

Ian's gaze grew distant, a faint smile on his face. Alex frowned slightly, processing. From the way Ian spoke, He cared very much about both John and Helen, but if that were the case, why hadn't he been at their wedding?

"Ash… he said you were away on assignment during their wedding…"

Alex froze at the wave of fury that rolled across Ian's face, the older man's knuckles turning white with how tightly he was clenching his fists. He'd never seen that kind of expression on Ian's face before, not his calm, mild-mannered Uncle. He'd seen angry before, of course, and disappointed; it was all part and parcel of growing up - but he'd never seen that kind of vicious, hateful rage.

It was probably safe to say Ian knew about Ash's betrayal.

"Unfortunately, I was. I don't know what - he - told you, but your parents' marriage wasn't anything romantic. John couldn't do romantic if he tried, and Helen was entirely too pragmatic to care. They were moving to a new flat at the time, and it was cheaper for married couples. When I heard…" Ian shook his head. "I called them six different kinds of idiot, but it was their choice in the end. God knew they'd been acting as if they were married long before then."

Alex blinked. His parents had gotten married… to get a discount on a flat? It just seemed so… ordinary. A bit cheap, if he thought about it.

"They loved each other very much, Alex," Ian reassured him, "But a wedding was just a piece of paper for them. They believed their actions and living their lives as a couple were more important."

"Did… Mum know about what Dad did? About MI6?"

Ian nodded. "Blunt threw a fit, but John and Helen were always completely honest with each other. It helped that Helen was his primary care physician - MI6 likes to keep things in-house. John always told her when he was going out on operations, especially deep cover."

"So she knew about Scorpia."

Ian nodded, his gaze clouded. His breathing was measured, as if he was being very careful not to aggravate some pain. Alex remembered the night Ian came home, remembered all the times he'd asked about John Rider as a child. Ian always sounded like he was being vivisected, and it felt cruel to press him further. But Ian never talked about his parents, and now that he finally had the opportunity to hear the truth from someone who wasn't a traitor, or trying to sell him an angle - at least, he hoped Ian wasn't - he was loathe to give it up.

Ian took the choice out of his hands, however, when he turned towards the kitchen, calling out, "Daniels, you'd better not be harassing my housekeeper!"

Ben replied with something slightly rude, as Jack admonished 'Ian!' and came out of the kitchen with a tray of food. Ben followed, carrying some more containers.

"Looks good," Ian said with a smile, "Let's eat!"

—

Alex, I say this as your best friend, and in the most loving of ways - quit being a pillock.

Alex stared up at his ceiling, his expression stony. "Thanks, Tom."

You know what I mean, Tom replied over the phone, Your not-dead Uncle is back from the not-grave, and you're sitting up in your room moping.

"You don't understand," Alex replied, frustration evident in his voice, "Ian - he's different. It's not like how things used to be."

He was dead for a year, mate, and you were forced into being James Bond, Jr. Of course things are different.

"He started talking about my parents today."

… That's… new… Thought he couldn't stand talking about them?

"He doesn't. But, I asked, and told me a bit… He sounded like he was being flayed alive."

I'm hearing a 'but' coming.

Alex sighed, glancing at the door to his room. Down the corridor, down a flight of stairs, and through the door on the left, Ian was resting on the sofa. "I asked him why he joined MI6, and he deflected by talking about my parents."

Tom whistled. That's complicated. Like, Neighbours - level complicated.

"You have got to get off the telly, Tom."

My point stands. Look, Alex, I get complicated - believe me, I get complicated; if I never have to hear another custody argument again, it will be too soon. But Ian's back, and the two of you have a second chance. Just go talk to the man.

Alex sighed. "Yeah. I guess."

No guessing about it. Get off the phone and go talk to him, I have a rerun of Leonardo to catch.

Alex rolled his eyes and bid his friend goodbye. Tom was right, of course. This was his second chance at a relationship with his Uncle - a real one, without the lies and secrecy.

Well, without too many lies, at least.

Alex padded down the stairs and found himself hesitating at the threshold.

"Something on your mind, Alex?"

"No, nothing, really," Alex replied, stepping into the room. Ian looked up from the mess of papers on the centre table, his expression calm and open. "What are you working on?"

The older man shook his head ruefully. "Paperwork, mostly. You'd be surprised how many forms it takes to bring someone back form the dead."

"The Bank has a protocol for that?"

Ian nodded carefully. "We do. Agents sometimes have to fake their deaths for the sake of their missions, so we have procedures in place to bring them home. Especially in this digital age…"

Alex nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he sat down opposite Ian. "You never answered my question before, about why - "

" - About why I work for the Bank, no, I don't suppose I did."

Alex stared at Ian expectantly. The spy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "To be honest, it was a toss-up between Five - MI5 - and Six at the time. The only reason I picked Six was because they told me I could track down the bastards that killed John."

Alex's brow furrowed. "Wait, you joined them after Mum and Dad died?"

Ian nodded.

"But - I thought you were on assignment, during their wedding?"

Ian's lips tilted up wryly. "I was on assignment, just not MI6. I was working for the SAS at the time, as a sniper."

Alex's jaw dropped. "You were a soldier?!"

Ian nodded. "John and I grew up outside the SAS training camp in Wales. All we ever wanted was to get out and serve our country. John went into the Army, then the Parachute Regiment; I went into the Army, then the SAS. Like Agent Daniels, I got seconded from the SAS to military intelligence pretty quickly."

"Ash made it seem like you'd always been a spy…"

Ian made an aborted noise in the back of his throat, lips thinning in displeasure. "He probably thought I was. Special Forces is just as shrouded in secrecy and red tape as the Service is, even if John did talk about me, he'd have had to couch it in vague terms. When you join the Service, you either lie about your job, or you make a completely new civilian identity for yourself. Mine was a bit of both - my service record is sealed up tight, but my overall civilian identity didn't change."

Alex sat back, unsure what to think. On the one hand, he was learning more about Ian than he ever expected. On the other, it felt like everything he'd ever known about the man was wrong.

"It's a lot to take in, I know," Ian said gently, "I can understand -"

"Did you still go to Cambridge?" Alex blurted out, overriding him. He didn't want to know, right now, what Ian understood. He just - he wanted information. He needed to focus on getting information for now.

Ian nodded, something old and sad in his eyes. "Mathematics, first class, honours. We try not to change too much more of our history than needed; it's the little details that get covers blown."

Covers. There was something inimitably spy-like about the way Ian spoke. He had never talked about his work, and Alex wondered what he would have sounded like as a banker. Maybe that was why he'd never said anything, he couldn't get the details quite right.

Ian set his pen down, looking at Alex intently. "Alex, I know I've never been very open about my past - your past, your history. And for that, I'm sorry. But I have this second chance… I'd like to do better by you. So if you ask, I will do what I can, to answer to the best of my ability."

Alex's eyes widened slightly. What Ian was offering, it was monumental. He knew - fifteen years and he knew - how much it hurt Ian to talk about John Rider, and he had more than an inkling of how complicated it was to talk about anything involving the spy life. But Ian was offering that to him on a silver platter, because he wanted to do better by Alex, because he cared… Alex felt a fierce rush of affection for the man.

This was Ian. This was his father's brother, the man who raised him. The man who showed him the world, who laughed with him, who taught him to stand on his own to feet.

Alex grinned at his father's brother, and Ian blinked as if the sun had just come out. "Thanks, Ian."

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?

I'm going to see if I can't rearrange the chapters without messing up the fic.

Thanks for reading!