A/N: Okay… I'm succumbing to the urge to write cliché. Because I needed a new guardianship fic, and I've run out of ones to read! Hopefully it will be enjoyable to read though, so please leave your thoughts in a review :)

(Also, I haven't given up on Leap of Faith - and never will! - but I needed to write something a little different and get some instant feedback. Also LOF is going in a veeeeery serious direction now *trembles ominously*)

DISCLAIMER: I did not receive Alex Rider for Christmas. Santa has disappointed me yet again.

Technicalities

Chapter 1

In the end, Alex couldn't blame Jack for leaving when she did. She had broken the news on a Friday night, just after he'd collapsed down at the kitchen table, shrugging his heavy school bag off his shoulder with great relief. It was the first full week of school he'd completed in months, and he was exhausted.

He'd known something was wrong in an instant. Usually, by now, Jack had started pulling food and spices from the cupboards, throwing them together in a pan in her usual brusque fashion, and laughing as she did. But the surfaces were clean, and the house felt cold.

If that hadn't given it away, the nerves that were practically vibrating off of her had.

"Alex…" Jack fidgeted with her hands, hovering in the doorway. She was tilting forward slightly, as if she wanted to approach him but a barrier was stopping her. "…We need to talk."

Alex's heart grew heavy. He dropped his head to his hands, smearing his hair out of his eyes. This was a long time coming, but he knew it was still going to hurt.

"Sit down," he said tiredly, pulling out the chair beside him.

Jack looked startled at being delivered her own line.

"It's okay," Alex said numbly. "I know."

"Know?" Jack echoed.

He went to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Alex looked down at the table instead.

"Alex… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, for doing this now, after – well, after everything, but I… I need to go, Alex. I need to leave. My dad… his health just keeps getting worse, and I need to see him – I can't do this anymore!" What had clearly been building inside Jack for long time burst out, and she threw her arms out in exasperation. "I - I can't!I can't just carry on like this, being here in this empty house, not knowing whether you're dead or alive out there…"

Alex sighed again. Her face was red with emotion and wet with tears.

"It's okay," he'd had to say. "I understand. It's okay, Jack. It's going to be okay."

Overall, the conversation went mostly how he expected it to go. Stilted, awkward, and painful. Jack breaking down on him was both terrifying and gut-wrenching, and, although he'd expected it to happen sooner or later, Alex hadn't quite been able to forgive her. It was childish, he knew, but Jack was his limit. Whatever happened, however many people he saved or killed, she had been the one constant in his life. His brain would not process her apologies.

Now, two days later, a physical lump of dread had settled in his throat. It grew larger as he approached the Royal and General Bank. They'd obviously known he was coming – there had been two agents watching him see Jack off at the airport yesterday, for God's sake – but he hadn't been approached. And when he'd arrived back at the big, empty house, they hadn't called him.

They want you to come to them, a voice whispered. They want you to need them.

And it was right: he did need them. He was here of his own volition, because he had no-one left to turn to.

Only MI6.

Alex wanted to back out, to get as far away from that bank as possible, but he genuinely had nobody he could go to. Once upon a time he may have called the Pleasures, but over the last few months Alex had learnt just how dangerous it was to drag ordinary people into his world of lies and deception. Even someone on the fringes, like Edward Pleasure, wasn't safe.

All of his other options were void, too. Smithers was under MI6's control. Ben Daniels was still in hospital, having been shot (because of Alex) in Australia - but even if he had made a quicker recovery, there was no reason to presume that the guy would take Alex in. They'd known each other for, what, five minutes? And Alex knew personally that the person you are in the field can be completely different to the genuine article.

No: his only option was to return to spying, and somehow try to stay one step ahead of Blunt and Jones. Head bowed in resignation, Alex pushed open the door of the bank and stepped inside.

2 hours later

"No way."

Mrs Jones pursed her lips and smiled as amiably as she could. They'd been at this for twenty minutes now, and she was no closer to her goal.

"Corporal Chase—"

"Wolf," the man corrected shortly.

Mrs Jones hesitated. "…Wolf. If you'll just consider the arrangement I've suggested—"

"No!" the man interrupted again. "No. I'm not doing it. Why should I have to spend my leave babysitting some agent's son?"

If Mrs Jones had not been trained to internalise her emotions, she would have snorted at that. Ironically, it was actually true. John Rider had been an exceptional agent. But she couldn't help picturing how Wolf would react if she told him that Alex Rider - or "Cub", as he referred to him - was twice the agent his father had ever been.

And now he was finally, fully theirs. When Crawley had slunk into Blunts office last week with the news that the American was finally leaving, Mrs Jones had never seen Blunt look so triumphant. Jack Starbright had booked a one-way flight to Washington. For a single passenger. And although, originally, she'd had her reservations about using Alex, Mrs Jones couldn't deny that she was pleased too. Alex couldn't carry on the way he was going; shooting off on missions every other month and pretending to be an ordinary schoolboy for the rest of the time. Maybe now he would finally realise his potential, if he accepted his fate...

Mrs Jones leaned back in her chair, and changed her tactics. If persuasion wasn't an option, that still left blackmail.

"Very well, Wolf. If that's your final word, I suppose I'll have to put in a suggestion to the Sergeant at Brecon Beacons. I'll have him extend your leave."

The man practically choked. "What?"

"Well, given that one of your teammates has recently suffered a serious injury – and we can't forget, of course, the current condition of your former teammate, Daniels – I would deem it suitable to prevent you from returning to service for another... oh... four months, perhaps?"

Wolf visibly fumed. Mrs Jones had to suppress her smile. Angering Wolf was not an amusing pastime for most sane people, but she knew that he was no threat to her. They'd been in this situation before. Wolf always gave in eventually.

"On the other hand," she said slowly, "if you agree to act as Alex's guardian, K Unit could be placed on indefinite leave, with a high possibility of returning to service within the next eight weeks."

Wolf glanced at her sharply. "How? You want me to leave the brat alone, when we go back to Brecon?"

Mrs Jones fiddled with a pen on her desk, realising that she'd backed herself into a corner.

"Alex... is not an agent's son," she admitted at length.

Wolf's eyes narrowed. "Then who is he?"

"He's your charge," Jones said firmly. "At least, if you want to return to training, he is."

Wolf glowered. "Fine. Where do I pick the kid up?"

"He'll arrive at your house," Mrs Jones replied immediately, already skimming through the papers on her desk for the guardianship documents.

Wolf was still glaring, but he signed on the dotted line. The pen moved across the page with short, jerky movements.

"Still got no idea why you think I should be the kid's guardian," Wolf muttered as he got up to leave.

Mrs Jones felt a twinge of guilt then. A slight tug in her chest.

"Because," she said honestly, "there's nobody else that he trusts."

Wolf looked at her with incredulity.

Oak Lane was a small, forgettable street squashed onto the edge of Chelsea. Alex had walked past it one hundred times on his way to school, and could have passed it one hundred more, without ever realising that an agent lived there. Then again, how many people would have suspected that his house was home to an MI6 spy?

Depressingly, he had only needed a small duffel bag in the end, after he'd packed all of his clothes and emptied the bathroom's cabinet for good measure. Alex had considered doing something with the furniture - putting plastic sheets or something over it, like they did in movies - but in the end, he couldn't be bothered. MI6 could deal with it. He just hoped they didn't put the place on the market - his situation was pretty dire, but at least he still had the money his uncle had left him, right?

When he pulled the door shut behind him, the click seemed to echo hollowly. Somehow, the whole situation felt surreal. Nine months ago, he'd been an ordinary fourteen-year-old with a nice set of friends, a bright future, and an uncle who worked at a bank.

Still, moping would get him nowhere. Alex set off down the street in the direction of the agent's house, shaking off the angst as he did. The only way to survive as a real agent, he figured, was to constantly look to the future. Starting with this new "guardian" of his. MI6 had trusted him to walk five streets without any backup, and sure enough, he found the flat without any difficulty. Alex trudged up the stairs to the first floor, ignoring the scrutinising stare from the woman in the flat below, and knocked twice on the door.

There was a crash and a curse from inside. Alex frowned. That didn't sound very spy-like...

The door was flung open, and Alex nearly kicked himself for being so stupid. Of course it couldn't be a regular MI6 agent. When was his life ever that straightforward?

"Hi, Wolf," he greeted, not even half-heartedly.

The SAS soldier nodded tersely, looking him up and down. "Cub."

There was an awkward silence. Alex examined Wolf curiously. It had, after all, been nearly a year since they'd last met. He looked a little tanned, but there were purple circles under his eyes. His face was set, stony with distrust.

The Alex who'd been sent to Brecon Beacons in March would have shrunk under Wolf's glare. But he was used to this game by now. It took a lot more than Wolf to scare him. He peered past Wolf and into the flat. Were those removal boxes in the hallway?

"I guess you'd better come in," Wolf said eventually, unsticking himself from the doorframe and disappearing into the flat.

Alex followed cautiously. It was dark inside. He squinted up and saw why - the ceiling light was an empty plastic shell with no bulb. And yet Wolf didn't strike him as the type to leave unpacked boxes lying around for months after moving in...

"I moved in last week," Wolf clarified, reading his mind. "Sorry about the mess." He didn't sound sorry at all.

Wolf led him down the corridor, to the furthest possible room in the flat. Already, Alex's mind was ticking, picking out emergency exits and drawing escape routes. Wolf pushed open the door in a cloud of dust, and stepped aside for Alex to enter. His new bedroom was bigger than he'd expected, actually, with a desk along one wall and quite a large bed beside the window. More than Alex needed.

He dumped his bag down on the floor and turned to Wolf, intending to ask where the bathroom was, but the man was already gone. Suddenly, a swamping sense of isolation washed over Alex.

Stop, he told himself firmly. Don't let yourself get sucked into that. You can't show any weaknesses anymore, remember?

As he marched over to inspect the wardrobe space, Alex reasoned with himself. It wasn't that bad. This was probably all temporary, anyway. Didn't Wolf have missions of his own to go on?

Yeah, said a snide voice in his head. And then you'll be completely alone here.

Alex sat down on the bed and sighed. Home sweet home.

Reviewers have my eternal love 3

Ally xoxo