Disclaimer: Don't own the Alex Rider series.
Read. Read. It's a long overdue update. The title of this chapter comes from the Maroon Five song 'Nothing Lasts Forever'.
Wolf eyed the two men on the doormat of his apartment with a manly, distrustful glare. He looked the taller one up and down with a frown. He was a few inches taller than Wolf with blond hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to be taking everything in. The second one looked more relaxed but still too alert for Wolf's liking.
"Is Alex in?" the first one asked politely enough, his gaze flicking over Wolf's shoulder and then back to Wolf's.
Slowly, Wolf stepped out through the door of the flat, forcing both men to move back a half step. He closed the door behind him gently, making sure that it made no noise. Then, he turned back to face the two men again, his expression cold and calculating.
"Are you MI6? Because if you are, then the answer is no. No, Alex doesn't want to come down to your office. No, he doesn't want to work for you, you sick twisted fuck. So take your little recruitment mission and fuck off back to Liverpool Street before I have to get nasty" Wolf growled, doing his best convincingly scary voice.
Really, he didn't fancy his chances against the two men. They both had hardened, ready to fight looks about them. With a strange air of alertness surrounding them as well. Wolf had seen the type many times before. Little jumped up MI6 punks who thought they had the God given right to order everyone around and bitch about how tough their jobs were. Personally, Wolf felt that the average soldier worked twice as hard as anyone in MI6.
The men exchanged slightly baffled glances. The second one leaned against the wall of the landing. A brief flicker of worry ignited the first one's eyes. Or perhaps Wolf had just imagined it. But it had looked real.
"Look, if that's what you're here for, just piss off and cut the innocent bullcrap, alright?" Wolf snapped, scowling at the men.
"Sorry. I think we've got our wires crossed here a little bit. We're not MI6. My name is John. This is my baby brother, Ian. I just want to talk to Alex for an hour or so. You can be there if you want" the first man, John, explained calmly.
"Yeah. I will be there. I'm warning you though. You say one thing to upset the kid and I swear, so help me God, I'll kick both your arses from here to Buckingham Palace. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?" Wolf asked gruffly.
"Crystal. You have my word" John guaranteed, holding his right hand up sarcastically.
Wolf opened the door and gestured for both men to follow him inside to the living room.
Wolf gesticulated for both men to sit on the sofa, which they did, looking slightly uncomfortable. Wolf walked slowly down the small hall to Alex's bedroom door, smirking slightly at the huge 'Keep Out!' sign that ruled over most of the woodwork. He knocked roughly on the door before sticking his head in.
Alex's head poked up from his bed, glaring at Wolf. Wolf simply raised his hands in mock surrender, a wry smile curling his lips.
"What? I knocked, didn't I?" Wolf said, a bark of laughter escaping his mouth. Alex lifted himself out of bed and got to his feet, flattening his hair with his hands quickly before turning a sullen expression on Wolf.
"There are some...people who want to speak to you. They're in the living room" Wolf folding his arms across his chest. Alex gave Wolf a curious look and shrugged in a half hearted, 'Do-I-have-to?' way.
Wolf nodded, another smile curving his mouth. Alex was so predictably grumpy even after a day in bed with Jack mollycoddling him to oblivion. Alex's face stretched into a frown and he gave a strained half nod, his eyes wary like a fox caught in a trap. Wolf smothered all his manly misgivings about feelings and drew in a shaky breath.
"Are you okay about, well, you know, everything? If you ever need to, um, talk then you, well, you know where to find me, right?" the older man bit out, praying silently that Alex never approached him to talk about his emotions. Wolf could deal with terrorists, bombs and general mayhem. But a teenage boys emotions had him stumped.
"If I ever need you just shut up and be there, alright? Don't try and ask me how I feel. I just want you to be there and to be quiet" Alex responded, rubbing the back of his head sleepily.
For the third time that day, Wolf thanked God that he'd looked under the bed to find the source of the crying sound in that small house he'd raided ten years ago.
"Why do you always have to introduce me as your baby brother?" Ian Rider snapped as the living room door closed. John rubbed his temples once and sat back down on the sofa, his feet hitting the ground at an awkward angle. He pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced nervously around the room.
"Ian, what if he hates me?" he asked reluctantly, his gaze lingering on a picture of Alex with the man who'd answered the door and a red haired woman. It had been taken on a beach and Alex looked to be nine or ten years old. Ian thumped his brother soundly on the shoulder in a friendly way.
"Nobody in our entire lives has hated you. You're John Rider, for God's sake. Everyone loves you" Ian replied, scratching the back of his head. Painful memories of John's countless girlfriends, buckets of friends and shining talent came flooding back to Ian, the remnants of living in your brother's shadow your entire life.
"Not true. Remember Mr. Gleeson? He didn't exactly like me. My left arse cheek hasn't felt the same since he got that loafer to it" John said, smiling tightly in an effort to calm himself. Ian recognized the comment as a distraction John had thrown up to keep himself occupied and let sleeping dogs lie by leaving it unchallenged.
"Oh, please. Even our mum and dad loved you more than me" Ian said, swallowing the bitter knot in his throat.
"What? No. That's not true Ian. They were our parents for God's sake. They loved both of us the same. No contest there" John replied, glancing at his brother incredulously. He felt a little bit bad really. He'd never really paid much attention to Ian until John had his own apartment and it was too late to sit down and talk about what happened in school.
"Yes it is. It's not a big deal John. I'd hate you but you're John. Yes, you can be a prick. But I don't think anyone can actually be mad at you once they've spoken about four words to you" Ian countered, smiling at his brother.
Ian had always been the slightly shy younger brother. He'd viewed John with the same mixture of reverence and envy as every other boy at school. John had been a legend. Captain of the football team. Captain of the rugby team. Athletics champ. A plus student. Everyones cool friend. All the girls would follow him around. Watch all his matches. His lunch table was always packed. He got away with being cheeky because the teacher's liked him too.
Ian had been the one who listened to the stories about his older brother. Tried to fill his shoes once he left. Sure, Ian had friends too. He made the football team. Might have captained it if he'd been serious enough about sport. Ian had preferred to just sit and talk with his circle of friends. He hadn't been artsy. Or sporty. He wasn't anything really. Average. Average marks, average looks. Just plain and simple average. Like a hundred other boys in the school.
"Which brings me back to my first point. You called me your baby brother again. Stop doing that. I can't stand it. You know I can't.I think you must do it on purpose" Ian said, scowling at his brother. John's eyes widened with innocent amusement and he raised his hands in a universal 'Don't-Shoot-Me' gesture.
"What? I hardly ever introduce you as that. ANd anyway, it's true, isn't it? I'll always think of you as my baby brother. Just deal with it" John replied. He felt a small smile tug at his lips and pushed his hair back anxiously. His lips tugged into a frown as his thoughts strolled back to Jamie, his eldest son.
Jamie had been one of John's most recurrent thoughts for a long time. At least John could keep a relative eye on Alex. But Jamie was in Europe somewhere, probably with Yassen. Yassen had been another one of John's thoughts as well. John wasn't sure where he stood with the Russian. He knew there was a reason behind everything Yassen did but he did feel jealous that while he had to fake his own death twice Yassen got to play father to his first born child.
It was all a bit unfair really.
The door of the living room opened and John took a deep breath, turning to face the boy and man standing there. Whatever be the sentence of the court, I am prepared for it.
-
The hum of voices muffled by the door ceased as Alex reached out for the door handle. He pushed open the door gently, the wood giving a little resistance as it moved across the carpet. Wolf stood at his shoulder, even his breathing sounding suspicious.
-
Christ, there's Alex. He's tall. Taller than I was. He has Helen's eyes. Sweet Jesus, he's looking at me. What on Earth am I supposed to say? My God, he even has my bloody hair. What's wrong with him? Why isn't he smiling? What has that prick Blunt done to my baby boy?
-
Alex's eyes studied the man sitting on the sofa. His companion was more familiar looking, like a hazy recognition. But something about the taller man cativated Alex's gaze. He felt his mouth slacken in disbelief as his mind struggled to catch up. He's me plus thirty years.
-
What the hell am I supposed to say? Why's he looking at me like that? He looks sort of happy but hurt. Oh God, have I done something to hurt him? Well, I suppose abandoning him for ten years might fall under that category. What should I do? Why's he moving towards me. AHH! Invasion of personal space! Oh. He's. He's...hugging me?
-
Alex felt two stiff, wooden arms wrap around his shoulders, giving him an awkward hug. Slowly he pulled back and coughed, feeling his face heat up in a blush. "Sorry for that. It's just..."
-
He apologised to me? What have I done?
"It's hard. I know. For what it's worth I'm very, very sorry".
John heard the distant voice and realised he was talking from the fact that his mouth was moving and sound was escaping from it.
The darker man was still standing in the doorway, a bemused expression on his face. He glanced from Alex to John to Ian and then back to Alex in a way that managed to convey perfectly the words 'What-the-hell-is-going-on!?'. Alex turned to the man and swallowed loudly.
"Wolf, these are my. My. My father and my uncle. I mean, my dad and my uncle" Alex informed him.
-
Wolf felt a strange stab of jealousy at the sight of Alex hugging John. He could remember each and every hug he'd received from Alex and they were all usually on birthdays or anniversary's and other important dates. Especially around the time of year that Alex and Jamie had been taken. For Alex to just hug the stranger unthinkingly, it was beyond unfair.
"Wolf, these are my. My. My father and my uncle. I mean, my dad and my uncle". Alex's voice forced it's way into Wolf's brain and suddenly none of the relationship stuff mattered anymore. All that mattered was the fact that the man was alive and he'd, he'd just cast away his son to save his own skin.
-
He called me his dad. How long has it been since that's happened? Uh oh. What had Alex called that man again? Wolf. Why on Earth did Wolf have that look on his face. Why is he crossing towards me? Ow. That is definitely going to bruise.
-
Alex watched as his father figure of the last ten years punched his biological father across the face. John Rider stared blankly around the room before collapsing, his eyes shutting.
Alex smirked. It wasn't always that his life contained such drama. Oh wait, teenage spy? Of course my home life should be like a soap opera.
-
Wolf clenched his fist, his knuckles thudding painfully. There you have it John Rider. Consider yourself decked(1).
Okay. It wasn't as long as I wanted. And it didn't work out as well as I hoped. But I do hope you enjoyed. You've all been such patient waiters and I really hope you're still reading. I'd love a review. But don't feel that you have to. If you have something say, please say.
There you go. John and Ian Rider have finally been coaxed out of their cage and into the story. I'm hoping you won't mind a Jamie chapter next because he's just that littlest bit easier to write than Alex. I mean, the guy knows freakin' ballet! :)
(1) Just in case you're not familiar with the term, it is Irish slang for punched. Why Wolf used Irish slang is simple. He did a tour of Northern Ireland and some of it stuck. Okay? Yes, obscure but you know, I just love Ireland so much that I try and sneak it into all of my stories.
Just one question this time.
1- Should John's POV on things be given regularly? Do you think I bended him out of character (which I have a tendancy to do)? I just think he would be a little awkward with his children after so long.