Hereditary

A/N: I apologize if I have not responded to your review. The site is not letting me respond to them. But, please do remember to review, as I will respond to them as soon as the site is back up to them (and, time permitting, I may just respond via PM to some of them).

Ding

Alex looked up from his cooking at the sound of the soft ding. He turned to the kitchen's wallscreen to see it already tuned to the camera over the door, with the intercom on.

"Ally?" Alex asked openly.

The streetlights and setting down cast shadows over his goddaughter's face as she smiled a little sheepishly at the camera on the door.

"Hi, Alex," she said. "Um…can I stay the night?"

He frowned, knowing she'd see it on the matching screen on the door. "Why?"

Ally sighed. "Mom…kicked me out."

It took Alex a few moments to even process that thought, before he asked, "WHAT?!"

Ally flinched a little, and said, "I'll…explain…"

Sighing, Alex muttered, "House Command: Open front door," and turned around to the kitchen doorway just as he heard the front door clicking open.

He heard the door shut, and a moment later, she appeared by the door.

She was clutching a hastily packed duffel, and Alex couldn't help but think back to his childhood, when Tom Harris would run over to escape his parents.

Déjà vu.

Of course, now that prat had his own homes in countries all over the world, but that was another matter entirely.

She quickly set her stuff down in one of the spare rooms, and came back to see Alex pointing at one of the pots on the hob, to which she started stirring the soup.

They worked in silence like that, listening to the news emanating from the wallscreen about the latest war up on the moon bases, before Alex finally broke the silence with a simple, "What happened?"

Ally didn't answer, and Alex was about to ask again before Ally said, "I just graduated uni."

"I…know…that…" Alex said, frowning. Of bloody course he knew that. "International Political sciences major and economic policy minor."

"Yea…I always loved those…"

"So…what?"

"I…I applied for a job at MI6. As a case officer."

That made Alex's blood freeze. He even stopped chopping the celery for it, as his mind, unbidden, went back almost twenty years to a conversation with this girl's mother, when she turned 5.

Another pause, before Jack spoke. "You know…as much as the twin just like to shoot waterguns for fun…Ally…I swear, Alex, it's starting to creep me out – how well she does it. And, using cover and bases and all that. Today, during the water war? She was the youngest on her team, but they were all listening to her. And they slaughtered the other two teams."

Alex, already getting a vague idea of where this was going, let her continue.

"She prefers the war movies. Loves to shoot and throw things. Remembers all the stupid little tricks you and Ben teach her. For god's sake, she wants to learn karate now, Alex!"

He blinked.

"I just…I don't want her headed down that path. I've watched this job destroy you, and Ben, for more than a decade and a half, and…and…I just can't let that happen to her."

Hm. Mothers really were that intuitive.

"Ally…you applied to become a spy?!" he asked, turning around slowly. She kept on messing with the stove settings, before turning it off and turned to him.

She nodded.

"You can't," Alex said bluntly.

Her face darkened. "I'd be great and you know it."

"You have the skills to be a case officer, yes," Alex said. "But you don't have the psychological profile to be a spy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alex opened his mouth…and found himself drawing a blank. This…this wasn't something easily explained. He needed time to explain it carefully, in a way that would get through her damn thick skull which she got purely because of who she was named after – him.

And she was already smiling smugly.

"I already know how to shoot, I've got black belts in two different martial arts styles, I know all about political economy-"

This was definitely something that couldn't be explained.

"-I was raised on food from around the world, so I already know those kinds of things, and we've been travelling so much that I know all about lots of places around the world, anyway-"

Alex carefully, casually grabbed the knife. He hated what he was about to do, and hated himself for it – but it was the only way he could think of to get this message through her head.

"-and I speak languages from all over the world, and I know all the cultures, and everything, and I can fit right inAAAAH!"

She shrieked as Alex launched himself at her from across the kitchen, and had her bent over backwards over the island, clutching her by her neck in a harsh grip he knew would hurt, and bruise.

Jack was really going to hate him for this.

"A-Alex?" she asked, terror in her voice.

"You would already be dead," Alex said, coldly. He raised the knife in front of her face, before pressing its edge to her throat, and saying, "You still could be."

Ally swallowed, but stared him down head on. Well, at least he could tell her that she knew how to keep relatively calm in these situations.

Damn…maybe she was good for this.

"No," she rasped. "You would never hurt me."

Alex continued to stare coldly in her eyes. Just as he only started to see some possible doubt in her eyes, he, in a flash, had the knife slicing across her left cheek.

The cut was only two centimeters long, and very shallow – it likely wouldn't even scar. But the knife had been covered in damn strong soap, which stung like a bitch. Not to mention, blood still welled up on her cheek and went down her face, a very dark and morbid tear, reflecting the fear he could now see all too clearly in her eyes.

He let some of that blood dribble onto the tip of the knife, sliding down, and held it up in her vision, flipping the knife to show her the bloodied blade right as he tightened his grasp on her neck.

"Are you so sure?"

She breathed heavily, and an actual tear fell from her right eye.

Sighing, Alex let go of her neck, and stepped back, dunking the knife back in the sink, as Ally backed away from him, several steps.

Seeing her, he grabbed the knife again – and didn't miss her flinch – and flipped it in the air, clutching it by the blade, and holding the handle out to her.

She took it in a shaking hand, and Alex spread his arms wide turning his face so his own right cheek was facing her.

"Think you can return the favor?"

She didn't say anything.

"Well?" he asked.

She gulped, and her hand slowly reached up before she shut her eyes, shook her head, and dropped her hand, knife still clutching loosely in it.

"This is why you shouldn't be in MI6," Alex said, dropping his arms and turning to the drawer that held a first aid kit. "I really could've been very easily trying to actually hurt you. And you should had taken that chance I offered, even if you knew I wouldn't kill you. Besides…you can never know."

"I refuse to believe there's no such thing as absolute trust," she said.

"Exactly," Alex said. "If you insist on trusting people like this, then you will die in MI6. I nearly have, several times."

"There has to be someone in your life you can trust to hold a knife to your goddamned throat and know they won't kill you!"

"THERE IS!" Alex yelled. "Someone who I – almost – trust unconditionally, though it really is 'almost' and not 'definitely."

"Who?"

"Your mother. And believe me, the fact I trust her so much terrifies me constantly. And if you must know, if she were to ever pull a stunt like that, then all of that – more than three and a half decades of trust and love and knowing each other – will be gone in an instant!"

Ally stared at him in shock.

"You don't understand, Ally," he said. "This is the world you will live in if you join MI6. You can never be sure who to trust, who you can live with, who you can't…and this is just the beginning. Just wait until your first cold kill. Until your first trusted partner and friend stabs you in the back, betrays you. Just wait for the first time you're tortured, or the first time you have to watch as someone else is, or even do it yourself."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, and Alex pressed on.

"Just wait until the first time you have to choose who to kill and who to save. Just wait until someone else makes that same choice about you…and chooses for you to die, or for your friend to die. That's what your father chose, once, both those choices, and believe me, I haven't forgotten. And this is just the tip of the fucking ice berg, Ally. I'm already trapped in this Widow's Web – don't get stuck in it, too."

Ally swallowed, and clutched the knife tighter to herself as she asked, "What do you mean…my dad already made that choice?"

Alex sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as he wondered when the hell he got so old.

"It was…a long time ago. Ben…your father…your dad…had the choice of either saving my life, or that of an agent that he barely knew, but who had the piece of information that would have stopped a bomb shipment from reaching the wrong people, and killing innocent people. Both the agent and I had just been poisoned, but your dad only had enough of the cure for one of us. He chose her, and had left me to die. It was almost pure luck that I managed to survive."

Ally stared at him in horror. "No! I…he would…he would never…"

"He did," Alex said. "He made the right choice, and believe me, if I had ever been in that position, I would've made the same decision. I have that made that decision, in fact – just not with your dad."

Ally shut her eyes, and set the knife down on the counter, sitting on a barstool and asking, "And…the thing about…choosing your friend to die?"

Alex sighed. "A…a friend of mine…who was an assassin…that your dad hated. During a mission…your father…killed my friend."

"Why?"

"I just said – because he hated my friend."

"But…he just killed…just like that?"

Alex nodded. "He wasn't entirely wrong, to – said friend was an assassin, for Old Scorpia, and killed innocent people for a living…but the thing is, so did we, in an abstract way. Believe me, we have both had to kill people…and even your mother-"

"She's not a spy!" Ally yelped. "She's a government art inspector, and she is in a precarious position, but she's not a spy!"

"She still has killed someone," Alex said. "Like I said, it was…it was a long time ago. All of this happened while I was still a teenager, much younger than you are, now. Someone…had broken into our home, trying to kill me, as they were paid to. Only, Jack was in the living room and I was asleep, and she took a shot with her gun, and killed the man before he could get too far. She hated herself for it, and still regrets it to this day, but she doesn't regret saving my life for it. And this is just one kill, of an assassin, who was trying to kill someone she loved. But…imagine how hard it is to kill an innocent person, purely because they've seen too much, and you have no choice."

"Killing that one person could save many other people's lives," she said, sternly.

"Yes…but can you hold a gun to a young child's head and pull the trigger to save the lives of complete stranger who you never have and never will meet?"

Ally gulped.

"This is why you can't spy," he said. "You can go and infiltrate any culture and fit right in and gather the right intel and everything. But it's the hard stuff that you can't do, kill to survive, or for cover. You can get it, but you can't get out."

Walking over to the sink, and putting her nose up in Alex's face, she said, "Are you sure about that?"

And quick as lightening, the knife was by his cheek, and Alex hissed at the sting of it. His hand shot out to grab the knife, but Ally'd already stepped away, tossing the knife into the sink over Alex's shoulder, and Alex stood there in surprise.

Then she reached out to his face, slowly, her eyes never leaving his, as she stroked over finger over said cut, and brought her finger back to their line of sight, covered in blood.

"I think I can return the favor," she said.

Alex, needing to push it for both their sakes, immediately grabbed his wrist.

But Ally really was well trained – she reacted quickly, bringing her knee straight up into Alex's thigh, with a sharp elbow jab to his chest and a well-aimed strike to his neck.

He swiped his foot into the backs of her knees while he was in agony, and as she fell down, she twisted the wrist he was holding to such an angle as to have to fall with her.

Or on her, to which end he quickly rolled off her, to give her an analytical look.

Not giving up, she actually landed a punch on his jaw and straddled his hips to lock his arms against him.

Panting, she said, "See?"

Alex nodded. "Yea…now get off me."

"Make me," she retorted.

So that's how it was…

With a smile, he did just so, and she fought back, and for a moment – just one moment – it was like she was a kid again, and him a young godfather, playing around with his tomboy goddaughter.

That ended with them sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against opposite cabinet walls.

"Ally," Alex said, after a moment, hating to break that slightly-more-contented mood, but knowing he needed to. "Your mother…she's been hurt, a lot, by me, Ben, alone, having these jobs. Not to mention everyone else she knows. She's surrounded from multiple frontlines, concerning her friends and family, of people she loves being in dangerous jobs. She doesn't want this to happen to you, because it would hurt too much."

Ally sighed. "I know, just…she can't…ugh! I'd be good at this job. Maybe one day as good as you. Maybe better – who knows? I can help people, better than working as some politician in a little office-"

"Not quite," Alex said. "Listen…for one thing, you'd help people the same. Lots of people – change idiotic policies and get help from the higher ups and-"

"In MI6, I can help the not-so-high-up-"

"Being a spy is not about helping people," Alex said. "Not just that. The stories I've told you? Not even a fraction of the real thing."

"Then tell me!" she growled.

"Politics," he said. "Government. It all comes down to lines. Lines on a map, cultural lines, language lines, lines in bank statements, lines of people on the streets, lines in money, lines in weapons, lines in war-"

"Lines?!" She said. "You think I'm worried about lines?!"

"I think you're not worried about lines," Alex said. "What I do – in my way of helping people – I have to take into consideration the politics and government surrounding it! And it's not just legal politics, too – we have to think double time, because criminal politics come into play, too! It's a fucking medieval jousting tournament. You either win or die – there is no losing!"

"Alex, how-"

"You will die," Alex said. "Trust me when I say it's pure luck your father and I haven't, yet. Well, pure luck on my side. Your father quit the heavy stuff when you three were born."

Ally was breathing heavily as she glared at Alex, before saying, "It's my life – if I want to gamble it, that's my prerogative."

This girl might just be a spy, yet.

"Fine, it is – which means it's also your mother's prerogative to kick you out and refuse to see you again."

"Why doesn't she do that with you, and dad?"

"She does."

Now his goddaughter frowned in confusion, and shifted to get more comfortable on the linoleum floor.

"Look...your father, like I said, stopped the heavy work when he became a father. And a lot of that had to do with your mother."

"And you?"

"She doesn't allow us to live with her. I left your mother to live on my own when I became an adult. I never went back. I come home to an empty house, now."

"So that's what's going to happen to me?" she asked, challenging.

Alex swallowed. He was about to break down an ultimate human conundrum down into a few sentences. Bloody hell, the things his world came to…

"Door Number One, you die," Alex said simply. "Door Number Two, you live."

"And if I take Door Number Two?"

"You don't take either door," Alex said. "You get shoved through it."

"And if I get shoved through Door Number Two?"

"Either Door A, you have a short but strong career, quit it early for the light stuff, and get a family. Like what my dad tried, and what you dad did. That has a fifty-fifty chance of you living a reasonably-long life."

"So what's Door B?"

"You never quit the high-life job, but you can never have your own family, close friends, and you'll forever be paranoid and suspicious of those around you, have to watch your back 27/7, 365 – and 366 – for the rest of your life, and you'll likely let your guard slip and die a little sooner than you'd like, anyway."

"You'll still alive."

"I'm only forty-four," Alex said.

"That's a solid thirty-year career, and you're still going strong."

"Your parents are in their fifties, and still worrying," Alex pointed out, momentarily feeling his age. Bloody hell, he was old.

"But-"

"Your mother loves you."

Her face hardened, but Alex plunged on.

"This is what will happen if you're a spy," Alex said. "You'll slowly stop being close to your friends, especially outside of MI6, because you will have to keep lying. Inside of MI6, you will always have to be careful who you trust with what, because anything can and will be used against you. The people you can be completely open and honest around with will plunge. Sharply."

"So what does this have to do with Mom kicking me out?"

"Mum," Alex corrected out of habit, even after two decades of it going completely unheeded. "And…this is just the beginning of the kind of emotional pain and sacrifice that comes with the job. Jack, for the most part, has never had to make that kind of sacrifice, herself…not directly, at least. But she knows what Ben and I have done, do, and will do."

"So…she's…training me?"

Another pause. "In SAS recruitment, the screening courses both train you, and judge you. If you pass, half your training is already done…and if proves you are capable. If you fail, it proves you can't handle it."

The young woman looked down, and with her frayed ponytail and hair trailing the sides of her face, she momentarily reminded him of the young girl he'd watched growing through the years, through bizarre phases and changes, how she'd jump from competitive dancing and straight to kick boxing, then to Tae Kwon Do, and running from Cinderella costumes one Halloween, to some anime ninja the next, and…

On the other side, her face, her soft face and sharp eyes also reminded him of how old she was, they both were. She'd stood by and held Jack through the tears of her parents' funerals, and Ben's uncle's death had devastated Ally's father, and she'd watched Ally chase after boys and girls alike, breaking hearts and having her heart broken, and learning about the true brutality of the world and the true brightness of it, too.

In all, while Ally and Alex pushed themselves up off the floor, he couldn't help but wonder if Jack maybe did see her daughter's potential, and was maybe trying to hold her back and offer her a chance at the same time, doing both and doing neither, and maybe Ally was choosing her own path more than she knew.

"Agent Alexandria Kate Daniels," Alex said, amusedly.

"Well, I'm no Agent Rider," she said. Then, smirking, she said, "Maybe I can become Case Officer Alex, v-2."

Alex laughed. He'd had a great deal of multiple names throughout his career – ranging from just Agent Rider with MI6 to 'Caliber' with Scorpia – Old and New. But the one most well known, now, was just 'Case Officer Alex'.

"That could work. Case Officer Alex II."

It was hidden under layers and layers of double meanings, and became simultaneously so well known and so shrouded in mystery that it became an urban legend that's already shown up in several James Bond pseudo-knockoff films. Most people thought it was a code-name for any particularly good agent…after all, the name 'Alex' meant 'great'. It's come to the point where only the highest ranking agents and directors know that it refers to a specific agent at all…and of them, only a small fraction knew that it referred to Alex Rider.

"You are getting rather old," Ally teased, turning back to the hob. "Stove: on. Temp: med-high."

"Oi," Alex said, doing his best to forget that he was, in fact, just a few years shy of half a century old. "I've still got quite a bit of fight left in me, yet."

"I know, I know," Ally said, mock-condescendingly. "But Director Crawley is hitting the peak point, anyway, right? He either retires or waits to be killed…right?"

"Your point?"

Ally gave him a pointed look, to which Alex's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "I don't want to be director. Even less so if you're an agent."

"Why not?"

"Because while I have the guts to send myself to my own death, I don't have the stomach to handle doing that to someone else…and even less of one to send you to your own death."

"Why would you-"

"That's the other reason Jack doesn't want you as a spy," Alex said, leaning against the counter beside her. "She knows how we work. She knows that there's a chance that one day, you will be sent into a mission, with your death report for it on file before you even leave. She knows that…"

Alex paused, swallowed, and said, "That if I were to become director, I would not hesitate to send you into such a situation if I thought it would have a potential benefit for a greater purpose."

Ally froze, before turning to Alex. "Would you really?"

"If I were to become heartless enough to make Director? Yes. As it is, I doubt that will happen, so I doubt that situation will arise. But whoever does make Director after Crawley gets off'd or retires will send you in, if necessary."

"How come you haven't?"

Alex shrugged. "Well…for one thing, as much as I'm using this to scare you, right now, I'll admit, it doesn't actually happen all that often for higher agents. Normally, they use the cut-crop – people who tried to be high ranking, didn't make the cut, and took lower ranking jobs instead. It's much easier to send them in, considering they won't actually know about the situation they're in. For another thing, they try and preserve higher ranking agents. As for me…well, I have a lot of connections and capabilities which makes me a last resort sacrifice. Not to mention, they have sent me in – it's been a combination of extreme skill, a shit load of luck, and a lot connections built up over decades that helped me out."

"…so you think there's a chance I'll get killed early on? By my own side?"

"There are no sides," Alex said. "The fact that you still think in terms of good and bad, in terms of sides, tells me it'll be a while before you climb up the ranks. And that means a longer time spent down in the lower ranks, where you're more of an 'extra' than an 'actor'…and it'll also be a fuck of a long time before you make it to a 'starring' role like me."

Another pause. "What if I want to take that chance?" Ally asked.

Alex shrugged. "I suppose that's your prerogative. You will have to handle the emotional pain of it. If I make director, you will have to accept I will always put civilian life above all others', including yours. If Jack and Ben take you back or shun you completely, you will have to handle that."

His goddaughter sighed, before she asked, "Why'd Mom marry Dad, anyway? I mean, if she hates MI6 and spying and stuff so bloody much, why'd she marry him?"

How was it that Ally could have a complete American accent and yet still use the word 'bloody'? And make it sound natural to boot?

"As much as your mother hates MI6…she loves us more. And that will include you, soon enough. She's left us both and come back for us both because she cares for us. That's the thing about love – you start coming second, after a while. It's your choice, in the end. But make it fast."

The young woman before him grinned, a grin that spanned from her infancy, toothless and innocent, to her turbulent youth, and to her current adulthood, bright and sharp.

"Thanks, Alex. I…I think I might already know what my choice is."

Alex smiled, and turned back to the soup. "Good. You can tell me after we eat."

Rising Tides – He was going to tell them the truth. Ben's family deserved it, no matter how hard it was to hear…or would be to watch. But he'd be there, to hold them through the tears. After all – he promised to. Part 7 of my 'Jack Daniels' series.

As always, please review.