A/N: Ian's back, and it's time to get the ball rolling!
Colin MacAvoy. Age 42. 6' 1", brown hair, grey eyes. Built like a brick. Paratrooper. MI6's best.
Taylor Farnesworth. Age 38. 5' 5", blonde hair, hazel eyes. Built like a woman, thank you. Signals. MI6's second best.
Ian Rider. Age 38. 5' 11", fair hair, hazel eyes. Thin. Sniper. MI6's third best.
Elizabeth 'Liz' Bennett. Age 29. 5' 5", brown hair, brown eyes. Wiry. Counterterrorism. MI6's fourth best.
Callum White. Age 35. 5' 9", black hair, blue eyes. Powerhouse. Weapons. MI6's fifth best.
They weren't friends. They weren't a team. Most of them barely even worked with partners. But they were the Elite, the five best operatives MI6 had, and that set them apart. That meant that when one of their own went down, they found them, and torched the bastards who hurt them.
Or they would, if Ian Rider hadn't walked out of a Scorpia torture camp on his own and done the job for them.
"What took y'so long," the fair-haired man slurred, "Y'waitin' for an invitation?"
Taylor glanced at Colin. "I told you so."
Colin rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. Callum, with me. Ladies - you know what to do."
Liz and Taylor nodded, making their way through the camp, while Colin and Callum crouched beside Ian. They'd found the man seated in the entryway of the compound, shoulders slumped, and an AK-47 lying at his side. His clothes were ill-fitting and torn, bloody in more places than not. His eyes were glazed with fever and pain, but the expression on his face was still focused and determined.
"Didn't... Didn't think Blunt would authorise a rescue mission," Ian grit out as the men helped him up.
"He didn't," Callum replied, "Jones ordered us not to get caught."
"Where are we, Panama?"
"Columbia," Colin answered, "You always were better with Arabic dialects than Spanish."
"My captors weren't exactly keen on talking to me, now, were they?"
"We've got a plane waiting a quarter of a mile out, can you make it?"
Ian muffled a groan and pushed forward. Colin and Callum caught him when he stumbled three steps later.
"We'll take that as a yes, then."
Ian was near delirious by the time they made it to the plane, sagging between the other two MI6 agents and mumbling weakly about his nephew.
"Come on, Rider," Colin coaxed, "You took out an entire terrorist camp by yourself, but a stroll through the woods'll do you in?"
Ian's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped on Callum, unconscious.
"Ian!"
"The IV's on board, hurry."
They worked quickly, hooking up electrodes to the thin man, and sliding a needle into his arm.
Colin swore. "We're going to need a tourniquet for his other arm. If we start working now, we won't be able to stop."
"Fine by me," Callum grunted, keeping a hand over one of Ian's injuries and searching for gauze with the other, "Liz flies better than you, anyway."
"Seeing as I actually passed my flight exam without flirting with anyone?" A female voice added wryly.
Liz and Taylor hopped onto the plane easily, sliding the door shut behind them, and Liz made her way to the cockpit. Taylor set down the bags she'd been carrying and ran her fingers through her hair.
"Rider did good. We got a lot more information from their systems than we expected. This... this could be what MI6 needs to take down Scorpia for good."
"Don't jinx it," Liz called out over her shoulder.
"Aye, aye, just keep your eyes forward," Taylor volleyed back.
Jack looked up from the stove as three firm knocks on the front door rang throughout the house. Alex, who was doing his homework at the table, looked between her and the door.
"Are we expecting anyone?"
"Didn't think we were," Jack replied, opening the door to see a blonde and a brunette standing in front of her. Both women wore similar navy suits, with pale blue blouses.
"Miss Starbright? Jack Starbright?"
"Yes," Jack replied, "Can I help you with something?"
The brunette nodded. "Is Alex Rider in residence?"
Jack immediately froze, her expression hardening. "Can I ask why you need to know?"
The women glanced at each other before the blonde replied, "My name is Liz Bennet - yes, my mother had a strange sense of humour - and this is Taylor Farnesworth. We worked with Ian Rider. If we may, we'd like to speak with you -"
"You want him for a job, don't you?!" Jack demanded furiously.
"Miss Starbright-"
"Well, you can just tell your bosses that I'm putting my foot down. Alex will not be involved with any of this anymore. You people have taken enough from him already, you won't do it any longer!"
With that, she slammed the door in their faces.
"Jack..."
Jack whirled around, surprised to see Alex so close behind her.
The blond teen looked amused. "Did you just slam the door in MI6's face?"
"... Yes. Yes, I did. And if they know what's good for them, they'll keep away!"
The image of his housekeeper brandishing her ladle at MI6 agents, or even the Heads of Special Operations, proved too comical and Alex burst into snickers. He tried to hide it behind his hand, but Jack caught his mirth and started chuckling.
Their laughter covered the sound of the car driving away.
Alex Rider was not having a good day. He'd been shot at, cycled across half of London at top speed, and shot a helicopter into the Thames with a fire extinguisher.
Now, Alan Blunt and Tulip Jones were sitting in his living room, asking him to work for them.
"What job?" The words fell heavily from Alex's lips, as the light from the past four months faded away, replaced by the dark tunnel of the MI6 world.
And then someone kicked his door open.
"Mr. Blunt, Ms. Jones, get the Hell out of my house."
The order was delivered calmly, as if the speaker couldn't imagine anyone not obeying. And Ian Rider, despite standing in the doorway on a crutch and being covered in enough bandages to make a mummy jealous, looked very much like he expected to be obeyed.
"Now, if you will," Ian reiterated, hobbling inside the house.
Alan Blunt's lips thinned unhappily, and Alex shot to his feet. "Ian?!"
"That is what it says on my birth certificate," Ian replied mildly, turning to Alex. He stared at the teen, drinking in his appearance. "Good Lord, you grew tall."
"You - you're dead!"
"So I've been told. Repeatedly." Ian turned to Blunt, who was still sitting stiffly across from Alex and Jack. His eyes were cold and his smile bitter. "I hear my funeral was very tasteful, though."
"Oh, it was," a blonde woman replied, stepping out from behind Ian, "Loved the flower arrangements."
A brunette followed behind her, both women armed with guns and holding metal devices in their hands.
"You!" Jack blurted out, standing up beside Alex.
"Good evening Miss Starbright, Alex," Liz replied amiably, "Ian, where are your stairs?"
"To your left."
"Wait, she can't -" Jack protested feebly as Liz turned and made her way up the stairs, to Ian's office and the bedrooms.
"Please, don't make me repeat myself," Ian said, looking back at the Heads of Special Operations.
"Ian -" Mrs. Jones began. At Ian's raised eyebrow, she amended, "Agent Rider, there are some things we still need to discuss -"
"Cairo's a trap," Ian cut in bluntly, "But you knew that."
Ian reached across with one hand and peeled away something that had been taped across his crutch. He hobbled over and dropped a file in Blunt's lap. "That's the information on Erik Gunter you want."
He dropped another file on top of the first. "That's the information on what Scorpia's planning in Cairo."
Alex's eyes widened.
"Agent Rider," Blunt returned firmly, "Certain things do not need to be discussed here -"
"I know, that's why I've been telling you to get out of my house for the past five minutes."
The conversation was derailed by a loud commotion outside, involving yelling and gunshots. Ian turned slightly, moving closer to the door and saying, "And that would be the rest of the Elites and the ex-SAS nancy you set on me taking out the Scorpia agents spying on my house."
That got Blunt and Jones' attention. "Scorpia?"
"You would know this already if Sir wasn't in the habit of putting all my files at the bottom of his to-do list."
"That's because your reports all read like pub brawls," Taylor replied, returning to the living room.
"I dictated this time!"
Taylor snorted and deposited a handful of small metal devices on the coffee table. "That's everything on this floor."
"These are mine," Ian replied, pulling a few of the bugs out from the pile, "The rest are not."
"You bugged our house?!" Alex demanded.
"Yes."
"Your Uncle is the most paranoid bugge - ahem - man I know," Liz replied, making her way back down the stairs. "Here, some more."
Something flew through the open window, and Ian's free hand shot out, catching the projectile in mid-air. Ian glanced at the short dagger in his hand, before turning his arm and flicking his wrist, hurling the knife back out the way it came.
There was a cry of pain, and a stunned British voice swearing.
Ian hobbled his way back out, and the other occupants of the house trailed after him. A fair-haired man lay sprawled face-down on the pavement in front of their lawn, with another, dark-haired man pressing one knee into his back, pinning him down. The prone man had the dagger sticking out of his shoulder.
Ben Daniels looked up, his eyes narrowed, "Rider, did you make that shot?"
"Of course I did, what did you expect me to do when a knife came flying through my window?"
"Not set your recovery back by a week would have been nice."
Ian glanced down irritatedly at the soldier. "Well, I wouldn't have had to, if you had managed to stop him before he got onto my property."
"You seem to have everything well in hand, Agent Rider," Mrs. Jones remarked as two men in suits carried over two unconscious Scorpia operatives.
Ian smirked. "I earned my rank for a reason, Ma'am."
"Really? I thought you got it for terrorising new recruits by being a crotchety, abusive old man," Ben snarked.
"Keep talking, Daniels, I'd love to punch you."
"You already have, three times today."
"Okay, can someone please explain to me what is going on here?!" Jack demanded.
"Daniels is still angry at Ian for checking out of the hospital a few hours after major surgery, and Ian turns into a crotchety, abusive old man when he has a concussion," Taylor explained helpfully.
"Not in public, Jack," Ian replied absently, scanning the neighbourhood. A few curtains were shifting, as neighbours peeked out to see the what all the commotion was about. "Daniels, get him up and back where he came from. I don't want assassins on my property."
Ian looked back at his superiors as Ben hoisted the injured man up. "Don't make me pull out the threats, Sir, Ma'am, because I can escalate this very quickly."
Blunt and Mrs. Jones nodded to each other. "Very well. Agent Rider, we'll expect to see you -"
"Tomorrow morning, 9:30 AM, Evelyn's already cleared out your schedule."
Slight raised eyebrows were the only responses Ian got as Blunt and Jones made their way to their car. As Blunt was about to get in, Ian reached out and grabbed his arm.
Ignoring the stiffening of the other Elite, and the chauffeur going for his gun, Ian pulled his boss close and said lowly, "Seven times in the fourteen years I've worked for you, you've asked me to choose between my job and Alex. Seven times, I've picked Alex. If you ever come near my brother's son again, I go straight to Jonathan and Will, and you can kiss your cushy little knighthood goodbye."
"Is that a threat, Agent Rider?"
Ian released Blunt, a bland smile on his face. "Of course not, Sir. Just reminding you one of the reasons you keep me around. Have a good evening."
A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?
Fair warning, this is a pro-Ian fic, so anyone coming to tell me he's a bad parent for whatever reason in the books will be summarily ignored and their comment deleted.