A/N: Welcome to another exciting installment of Is Ian Rider Aware He Is Not James Bond: The Game Show.

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

Please, read and enjoy!

Halfway across the city from Royal and General Bank, Alex was lounging in his best friend's room, settled in Tom's desk chair as Tom lay across his bed.

"I think you're having me on."

"Was I having you on when I told you I worked for MI6?"

"Well - no."

Alex crossed his arms amusedly as Tom scowled. "But, seriously, Ian? Your dead Uncle?"

"Not dead anymore," Alex replied brightly.

"So, let me get this straight," Tom said, sitting up with a groan, "Yesterday, your dead -"

"Not dead anymore!"

" - Formerly dead, fine - Uncle Ian Rider -"

"You know, he hates that word."

" - Alex, shut up, or I will deck you."

Alex grinned and Tom huffed. "Anyway. Yesterday, Ian Rider turned up at your house, kicked the heads of MI-6 out and revealed that he wasn't dead after all, but had been held captive by a terrorist group, the same terrorist group who shot you - are you even allowed to tell me this? Am I going to have to sign the Official Secrets Act again? Are men in suits and sunglasses going to come down and erase -"

"Tom."

"Alex."

"That was a pretty good summary, though," Alex replied, "And I don't think you'll have to sign the Act again, it's not as if Ian's in hiding. Half our neighbours have already seen him."

"What are they telling people about his disappearance?"

Alex shrugged, his expression turning distant. "No idea. Ian went down to the Bank today, they'll probably figure it out there."

Tom sat up with a small groan, grimacing at the pain shooting up his injured arm. "Wonder what they'll tell people. I mean, Ian had a funeral, and a public burial, they can't just erase that - or does MI6 have time machines already? They do, don't they!"

Alex laughed. "No, Tom, no time machines."

"Not like you could tell me if they did, anyway," Tom grumbled. "Oh! Maybe he witnessed a crime and was kidnapped!"

"I think you've been sitting in front of the telly too long, mate."

"I'm off school for two weeks; I intend to enjoy it as much as humanly possible."

"By what, watching Eastenders and CBeebies?"

"Tracy Beaker is on Blue Peter," Tom replied archly.

"Eleven-year-old girls watch Tracy Beaker, you nutter."

"There was a Doctor Who marathon on BBC Four, though, that was pretty entertaining."

Alex shook his head amusedly. "That explains the time machine idea."

"Well, it's not like I can do much else with my time… Hey, can I come over your place? It's got to be better than turning up the telly loud so the sound effects cover up the sound of Mum and Dad arguing."

Alex raised his eyebrow dubiously. "I thought you swore you were never coming over after Ian made you work on Spanish grammar the last time?"

Tom opened his mouth to argue and then paused. Alex was right, he had said that. He'd been skiving off a detention, with some story about being sick and his parents not wanting him to stay home alone, so could he please hang out with Alex until they got back? Looking back, it was clear Ian hadn't bought any of it, but let Tom stay anyway - and work on some of the nastiest Spanish conjugations he'd ever seen.

"Still better than 'Who Loses Parent of the Year Worse' out here."

"Yeah, alright."

"How is Ian, anyway?" Tom asked, fidgeting, "I mean, with the whole not being dead thing?"

"He's got a broken leg, and a lot of bandages. He was pretty up and active this morning, though."

Alex fell silent. He had infiltrated Scorpia, he knew what their methods were like. Over a year under their thumb had to have left Ian with more than a broken leg and a few cuts, right?

"Do you think he'll finally tell you about his missions?"

Alex blinked. "He'll what?"

Tom waved his good arm enthusiastically. "His missions! I mean, you know the truth, right? And you're practically a spy yourself."

Alex sighed. "I don't think it works that way, Tom. I mean, he's an actual spy, and I'm just… God, why are we talking about MI-6 again, anyway? I'm done with them."

"Yeah, but Ian…" Tom trailed off awkwardly. He knew that look on Alex's face, he'd seen it before whenever he'd brought up MI-6 in the last few months. If he didn't drop the subject, Alex would likely shut him down and storm off. "Sure, mate. Whatever. Anyway, what d'you think Newcastle's chances are this weekend?"

"With their defence right now? Sunderland could beat them."

"Oh, come on…" Tom's eyes lit up as he and Alex descended into a familiar argument about the state of the football league.

Taylor frowned as she and Ben approached the house, listening to the loud argument coming from within. "You sure this is the right place?"

"This is the address Jack gave us," Ben replied, knocking on the door.

Taylor scoffed. "They're not even going to hear that, Daniels."

As if on cue, the door swung open and a short, dark-haired woman demanded angrily, "What?!"

"Mrs. Harris?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Who wants to know?"

"My name is Ben Daniels, Ma'am," Ben replied calmly, "I understand Alex Rider is here?"

Mrs. Harris frowned. "Alex?"

"Yes, Alex," a man snapped, coming up behind her, "You know, your son's best friend, sitting up in his room right now?"

"Don't take that tone with me," Mrs. Harris snapped back. "You know, this is the reason -"

"Oh, here we go again -"

Taylor and Ben exchanged glances as the couple devolved into an argument in front of them. Mr. and Mrs. Harris stormed away, bickering, leaving the door wide open.

"That counts as an authorisation to enter, right?" Taylor asked, "I hate the whiny civil-liberties types."

Ben rolled his eyes. "How do our higher-ups put up with you, Farnesworth?"

"Paracetamol and antacids," Taylor replied flippantly, "I'll go grab the boy, you deal with the Power Couple over there. You're a better people person."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say most people were," Ben muttered.

He needn't have worried, the Harrises were still completely involved in their argument by the time Taylor returned, Alex and Tom trailing behind her.

"Ben? What's going on?"

Ben glanced between Alex and Tom, who was looking at his parents disgustedly.

"Oh, it's fine. Tom knows - about everything," Alex replied quickly.

Ben was suddenly struck by the fact that Alex was in fact a teenage boy, not a real spy. The giant, impulsive breach of security was proof. He sighed. "Alex, Ian's been taken to St. Dominic's."

"Oh, my God, I'm going to kill him."

Dr. Alan Hayward grumbled under his breath as he received some strange looks from the nurses passing by. The chart in his hands read "Rider, Ian L." in bold black letters. The long list of patient injuries showed malnourishment, lacerations, bruising, fractures, and low-level inflammation. And the newest addition: a bleed into his lungs.

Knowing Ian, he'd had trouble breathing, but hadn't thought anything of it. Or it had been subsumed by the pain from all his other injuries, because God knew that man never took the full dose of his pain medication.

Idiot was lucky he hadn't gone into cardiac arrest. Or picked up some opportunistic infection while he was immunocompromised.

"This is what happens when you sign out of a hospital AMA, Ian," he sighed.

"Dr. Hayward?"

Alan turned to see a dark-haired man and a blonde woman striding towards him, with a familiar blond teenage boy between them.

"Alex! What can I do for you?"

Alex looked at Ben, who stepped forward, pulling Alan aside and speaking in a low voice. "Dr. Hayward, I'm Agent Daniels, my colleagues came in with Agent Rider earlier."

Alan turned back to the teen sharply. "… I cannot believe I didn't make that connection sooner. Alex was listed as having no living relatives."

Ben inclined his head, privately noting how familiar the doctor was with Alex. "It's complicated."

"With Special Operations, isn't it always?"

Alan turned back to Alex and Taylor. "Ian's in surgery right now, the other Agents are waiting outside the operating room. I can take you there, if you'd like."

Taylor nodded. "Thank you, we'd appreciate that."

As they navigated the wide corridors of St. Dominic's, Alan fell into step beside Alex. "And how are you holding up, lad?"

"I'm fine."

Alan resisted the urge to cast him a dubious look. With Ian Rider as his Uncle, he had a feeling the word 'fine' wasn't defined the same way for Alex as everyone else. "No lingering chest pains? No stiffness in your shoulders or weakness, numbness, or throbbing in your ankle?"

Alex hesitated for a second, remembering the pain in his chest warning him of the shooting at his school, and then shook his head. "No, everything's fine."

"Alright. You have my number in case your injury acts up."

"Yeah."

Well, he'd tell Ian to keep an eye on his nephew. It was unlikely that Alex's past injuries would act up now if it hadn't yet, but the human body was as frail as it was resilient.

"… Dr. Hayward?"

"Yes, Alex?"

"What… happened to Ian? Ben and Taylor wouldn't say."

Alan glanced at the two spies walking behind them, walking a careful enough distance away so as not to intrude upon his and Alex's conversation. "He started bleeding into his lungs. Nothing too deadly, we caught it in time. He'll be fine."

Alex sucked in a sharp breath. "What about his previous injuries?"

Alan glanced down at the chart in his hands. MISO had ordered Ian's stay be kept under wraps, with no press or unauthorised visitors, which was standard for all operatives sent to St. Dominic's. Patient records were, of course, classified, and standard protocol was on the lines of 'deny, deny, deny.' Someone was supposed to come down with an appropriate cover story, as they had with Alex's "appendicitis," but with Ian's unexpected arrival and him checking himself out early, that little detail seemed to have fallen through the cracks.

"Well, you know I can't share that information with you without authorisation -"

"He's my father's brother!"

"I know, Alex," Alan said gently, "And this must be a frightening and stressful time for you, but I promise you, he is in the best of care here."

Alex swallowed, staring determinedly ahead. "But Ian - he didn't say."

"I've treated Ian for over a decade now, and medical disclosure has never been a particular talent of his."

Alex looked up at Alan. "I thought you were a paediatrician… Is that why MI6 made you my doctor? Because you're Ian's?"

"Oh, who knows why they do anything," Alan replied, aiming for a lightness he didn't quite feel, "But I know they like to keep things… In-house. And, here we are."

The three other Agents looked up at Hayward's arrival, and Alan's pager beeped.

"I need to head out, there's an emergency in cardio. I'm sure you'll be in good hands, Alex."

Alex nodded dully as the doctor strode away. Alex settled into a seat between two of the other Agents, feeling like they were statues with how still and quiet they were. Alex cleared his throat. "How long has he been in there?"

"Bit less than an hour," the tallest man, a blond, replied. "My name's Colin, I don't think we were properly introduced before." Colin gestured around him. "This Callum, Liz, Taylor, and I believe you know Ben already."

Alex nodded. "You all… work… with Ian? At the Bank?"

The spies looked to Colin, who seemed to have been elected leader and spokesperson. "After a fashion, yes."

"Ian and the rest of us, Daniels excepted, are solo agents," Liz explained, shifting in her seat to face Alex fully, "We don't often work with others."

"Then how do you know… Why are you all here?"

"Well, it's not every day Ian Rider comes back from the dead -"

"There was that one time in Morocco -" Taylor piped in.

"On British soil," Liz continued, shooting Taylor a dirty glare, "We just want to make sure everything turns out alright."

Callum leaned over on Alex's other side, whispering, "Don't listen to Taylor, her purpose in life is to stir trouble."

"Oi!"

"No, I'm serious," Callum continued, mischief in his eyes, "You know when people say 'it's complicated'? It's usually Taylor's fault."

Taylor paused, lips pursed slightly. "… Well, can't really argue with that."

Alex's lips twitched faintly with stirrings of amusement. "It's just, I thought you were supposed to have partners? The CIA had their Agents working in teams when I worked with them. And ASIS -"

All five adults stiffened, and Liz put her hand on Alex's shoulder, stopping him. "Careful, Alex. You don't know who might be listening, even in a hospital."

Further conversation was halted as the doors to the operating room swung open, and the surgeon stepped out. Alex shot up from his seat. "What happened to Ian?"

The surgeon glanced between Alex and Colin, who nodded. "Agent Rider is stable. He's being taken up to the intensive care unit, Room 412. Dr. Hayward will be able to tell you when you can see him."

Alex ran his fingers through his hair, and Liz kept her hand at his back in support. "Thank you."

Ian fought his way to consciousness, trying to tear through the fog and fatigue weighing him down.

Pain medication, it had to be. It always left him feeling like he was underwater, swimming against the current.

He blinked his eyes open to see white and peach and grey, resolving into Alex's worried face, and Alan Hayward's less than impressed one.

"… 'Lo, Alex."

"Ian…" Alex reached forward and clasped his uncle's hand.

Ian pushed himself up, and Alan promptly warned, "Stay down, Rider, or I will put you in restraints."

Several heads turned to Alan, who didn't look up from scribbling on Ian's chart. "Don't think I won't."

Ian smirked weakly. "I knew you just wanted me for my body."

Alan snorted and checked the monitors around Ian. "That line hasn't worked on me in the nearly two decades you've known me, it's not going to work now. And before you start, yes, I'm lowering your morphine dose."

"Cheers."

Alan shook his head, muttering under his breath as he ran through basic vitality checks. "You look fine for now, I'll be back to check on you in about half an hour. You know the drill if anything comes up."

Ian raised his free hand, holding up a small remote. Alan nodded. "Good. Half an hour, the rest of you. Contrary to what my patient will claim, he needs his rest."

Taylor smirked as Alan left, and clapped her hands. "If I were you, Alex, I would make good use of this golden opportunity - just think of all the blackmail you can get when he's high on morphine!"

"Farnesworth," Ian growled.

"You should ask him about Boston, lad," Callum prompted, "That's not super-classified."

"Was that the one with Travis, the cow-and-tweezer-catapult, and Harvard?" Ben asked with a grin. "The teachers at the Academy always get this really pinched look on their faces whenever anyone asks about it."

"… The what?" Alex asked, disbelieving. Ian turned an equally bewildered expression on the other Agents.

"Oh, nothing," Taylor replied flippantly, "There was just this Agent, Travis, who didn't think he could get into Harvard University, so Ian threw him over using a catapult made with - what was it Kenneth said - 'cows and tweezers and no laws of physics.'"

Alex stared incredulously at his Uncle, who groaned and rubbed his brow. "Do you people even hear the words coming out of your mouths?"

"Really? I heard it was -"

"For the love of God, stop."

"- Something to do with Rutgers, too -"

Ian grabbed the crutches leaning by his bed and swung them towards Ben. The ex-SAS soldier stepped out of the way, smirking.

"My life is not a cartoon spy story," Ian grouched, "And cow-catapults, really? Alex wrote better when he was in Year Three."

"Oh, right, the peacock thing, yeah? First time anyone in the Dakar office saw you smile -"

"Farnesworth -"

Taylor smiled serenely. "My work here is done."

Colin rolled his eyes, but didn't fight down the smirk tugging at his lips. "Boston wasn't even the most embarrassing. Did you hear about why he couldn't go to Fallujah?"

"Colin!"

Liz giggled and squeezed Ian's shoulder. "Get some rest. We promise not to completely ruin your reputation to Daniels."

"Please die. All of you."

Alex shook his head as the other spies left. "You have some… interesting friends, Ian."

"We're not friends, not exactly," Ian demurred, looking over Alex carefully. "How are you?"

"Me?!"

"Well, you had a very traumatic experience yesterday, and received some world-shaking news. And now you're here, another stressful experience."

Alex laughed weakly. "I'm fine, Ian. You're the one who just got out of surgery. I should be the one worried about you!"

"What, over this? Nah, don't listen to Alan, he likes to make out things are worse than they are."

Having been treated by Dr. Hayward not once, but twice, Alex somehow doubted that.

"He said he's been treating you for over a decade. How often…"

"I can't answer that, Alex."

Alex fell silent, his jaw clenching. "Right. Of course."

"Alex…"

The teen shook his head. "No, it's - it's fine. I get it."

There was something deeply sad in Ian's gaze, clouded as it was with morphine. He squeezed Alex's hand. "Look, let's talk about something else. You said something about Grease at breakfast, tell me about that."

Alex's brow furrowed slightly. "You sure? You'll probably think it's boring…"

Ian smiled. "I don't think anything you tell me could be boring, Alex."

Alex's lips quirked up. "Alright. It started when…"

Ian leaned back and listened to his nephew talk.

A/N: The cow-catapult thing was the result of a NaNo word challenge back when I first started this thing in 2013; it's basically Ian's friends making shit up on the spot to lighten the mood as a favour to Ian since Alex is around.

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Let me know!