Ha ha, in my last author's note, I wrote I need to stop sleeping to remedy the fact I was tired… Heh… I need to start sleeping more, and maybe I won't make mistakes like that anymore…

And so it continues. I would like to thank all my FABULOUS reviewers, and the academy, and my parents of course… Ha.

Don't forget to review how much you like it, don't like it, hate it, love it, whatever. Just review and I'll update.

Chapter 1

To a passerby, he looked like a normal (if not handsome) man, wearing a normal looking (if not baggy) suit, standing in front of a normal (if not boring building). But for as long as that sentence was, The Englishman knew there was more than met the eye.

He was not a normal man. He was a spy. This was not his suit. It was Theo's (Snake's). This was not a normal building. It was actually MI6 headquarters and The Englishman had been here many times before.

Two weeks had passed since his escape with a unit of SAS men. After he had blacked out, they had taken pity on him, even pulling strings to get him in the same room as Mark (Eagle) in their local military hospital. He had learned their names, code and real. They paid for his bill, watched over him and Theo had even lent him his own suit. The Englishman knew that this was their way of saying thank-you and when this was done, he would probably never see him again. But that didn't bother him. It was just the way things went.

The lone man took a deep breath and walked up to the Royal and General Bank. In the glass doors, he checked his reflection. The three-piece suit he was wearing helped take away attention from the sling holding his wounded arm. The sight of himself reminded him that it would be impossible to go to work right away. Heck, The Englishman hadn't even visited his old home yet.

How would he be received? His heart sank to his toes, and grief washed over him. Would the people at home think he had abandoned them? Did they think he was dead?

The Englishman winced, shook his head once more, and mentally steeled himself. He opened the door. The lobby was exactly how he remembered it. Everything from the light brown linoleum, to that comfortable brown couch was the same. No, there was a new fake plant in the far corner. But other than that…

The Englishman's gray eyes scoped the place. He assessed potential enemies, hidden weapons and cameras. A small smile took over his face. Even eight months later, he still had it.

The Englishman looked down at the desk in front of him. He was surprised; his legs had automatically carried him to the reception desk. It was the same desk as always. He spread his spare hand over the top of the mahogany desk, reveling in this small comfort.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist asked, never looking up at him. Her attention was fixed on her computer. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

The Englishman cracked a small grin at the flash of jewelry on her finger. She's married. Good for her. A depressing thought hit him. I wonder what else I missed.

"Sir, can I help you?" She still hadn't looked at him.

He cleared his throat and his thoughts. "I need to see an Alan Blunt," he said.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but there is no one by that name h-"

"Marla," he interrupted, "it's me."

The receptionist finally looked up at him. Then her face paled as recognition hit her.

Alan Blunt was a man who didn't like surprises. It was mostly because he knew too much to be surprised anymore. When his wife and child were killed, that wasn't startling. Devastating, but not surprising. When John and Helen had been killed, it was not unforeseen. That kind of risk came with the job, everyone knew that. When Ian had been killed, it was a shame but still not shocking.

When Alex had barged into his office, and claimed he would off himself if they tried to use him again, it still didn't come as a surprise to Blunt. He knew the child would come back. Especially when the dreams and memories and the lack of the addicting adrenaline became too much for him. Blunt knew this would happen, because it had happened to him.

Blunt's thoughts wandered as he predicted more of what would happen to Alex.

He knew Alex would come back and demand why he had never been assigned a therapist. Then Blunt would have to inform the foolish child he had never asked for one.

Internally, Blunt laughed. Alex Rider was no child. But he was no Alan Blunt either.

There was a sharp rap at the door.

"Enter." His voice was practical, boring.

His secretary, Linda, came in with her boss' daily cup of tea. She knew he poured it out in his plant when she was gone, but he asked for it and she gave it to him. Blunt looked up to ask her for a favor and noticed something. Her face was pale and her hands were shaking. It was obvious to him that she was trying to keep control of her emotions.

It was then Alan Blunt was surprised for the first time since he was fourteen.

It was not like he keeled over in shock. It was just a fact people (including him) were emotional. They were irrationally, petty.

But Linda kept her emotions and curiosity under control. She didn't get involved, and therefore she couldn't be tortured for information. She didn't let her emotions get in the way of her job. She was Blunt's dream come true.

But now she looked almost scared, as if she had seen something unnatural.

"Is there anything else Miss Jenkins?"

She took a deep breath. "I-I…"

Blunt tried his best not to smash her head into his desk. He was a rational man, a patient man. It would not be in his best interests to damage her head. Even though she was annoying him with her blathering.

Even though he really wanted to.

He watched with disgust as she ran a shaky hand through her hair.

"It's just… I… umm."

"Is this a personal matter?" He finally broke in calmly. She should know he couldn't care less that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend.

He did care that her boyfriend had some questionable ties. He did care that a MI6 agent (her 'brother') had threatened him the other day. But that was insignificant.

Linda let a wave of shock rip through her features. "No… No!"

He looked at her.

She nodded and finally took control of her emotions. "There… I… T-There is someone here to see you… Sir."

Alan Blunt held in a growl. "Did they have an appointment?"

"Well, no, but…"

"Nobody comes in without an appointment," he droned.

Linda smiled a bit. "Behold, my son was dead but is now alive, was lost but now found."

Blunt held in a sardonic laugh. Scripture. "Linda, I'm busy." Go away.

"Mr. Blunt, I would not waste your time unless he was Alex Rider or someone more important than him."

"Linda…"

"Sir, Ms. Jones insisted you had to admit… him."

Blunt was gripping the desk in anger. But if you looked at him, you would have thought he was bored.

"Fine. Bring him in."

I was planning to update last week, but it just didn't work out. I hope you enjoyed this.

And questions? Comments? Concerns? Don't forget to tell me.