Disclaimer: don't own.

A/N Thank you to everyone who's taken the time and read for so long. It's been a long journey, and I'm sort-of in shock right now that we've reached the end. I have nothing but gratitude to share with all of you, the readers, and especially the reviewers, who've made this story possible.

Alex was almost surprised when he woke up again. He felt very weak and his throat felt like it had been hollowed out by a beaver, with a grimace he darted to the half toilet and half sink and heaved but nothing came up. Alex recognized the symptoms of the poison that had been used in the dart. The name aluded him, but it had been one of the lethal and forgetfulness-inducing ones: often used by second-rate, non-scorpia assassins, his instructor in Malagastro had said disdainfully.

He was in a cell, that much was plain. Beside the toilet was a bed and that was as exciting as it got. And so far, he was alive, which was the greatest miracle. His broken left hand had been treated professionally and as a result his entire hand was encased in a cast.

Alex didn't know how much time passed inside that cell. It felt like forever, but he got three meals a day, and from those, he deduced that he had spent at least 24 days in prison. It's strange what too much time alone in confined space can do to someone. To be fair, it was better than almost all of the other places he'd been in when caught.

Alex did not waste this stress-free time of no assassins, no espionage, and no homework. He refused to lose hope, and his mind, while trapped for so long. Instead, he kept himself on a schedule. Every "morning", whenever he woke up, he would stretch, then do 500 push-ups and 500 sit-ups. After he was done those, he would eat his breakfast, then he would practice tae-kwon-do and jujitsu until lunch. The afternoon he would devote to practicing different techniques he learned in bits-and-pieces like his limited SCORPIA, SAS, and mission training. While going through really automatic drills, he would try to quiz himself on his knowledge of herbs, poisons, guns, etc. After supper, it was a bit of Karate, and then it was straight to sleep.

Occasionally, he would discover a sedative in his food, which he would eat anyway, positioning himself carefully over the mattress. When he woke up again, his bandages would be changed and he would just feel all that much better. As the days went on, his bruises slowly faded and his body slowly recovered it's strength.

On the 25th day, there was a change to his routine. Instead of a guard sliding Alex's lunch in, the door opened, and in walked Mrs. Jones carrying his lunch on a tray. A waft of peppermint followed her in.

"The condemned prisoner's last meal?" Alex half-joked, raising an eyebrow.

Mrs. Jones' lip twitched, though she looked worried, more than anything else. She looked different, just a few small changes that spoke volumes to Alex. Her hair was a little more thin, her face just a little more frail, the bags under her eyes just a little darker. "You could say that. One way or another, you won't be a prisoner for much longer."

His nightmare was coming true. Were they going to kill him? Why had they taken so long? His throat suddenly closed. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I don't really know how to start." She sat on the cot, beside him, and placed the tray between them. "What you did—what we, essentially started, was no small thing. Blunt had been in power for so long, and blackmail was one of his favourite forms of persuasion."

Alex snorted. Didn't he know it.

"It got the job done," insisted Mrs. Jones. "However, this gave a general unease to the workers persuaded this way. It got to the point where people where hoping for a change. However, because they were a minority, nothing could be done. They needed something that would get more people on their side."

Smithers' mysterious words came back to Alex. "The longer you stay hidden, the better. It shows that Blunt can't do everything."

"Well, the public information and evidence of your personal life experiences were enough. In fact, more than enough. When you hacked into our computers last month and broadcast your little encounter in the office of the international headquarters, it brought out a reaction. Not only have they enough support to stop Blunt from blackmailing more people, they have enough support that Blunt is now a normal civilian, and they are working to get him behind bars—though that is unlikely."

"Are you part of this mysterious, they?" Alex asked.

"Yes. You are too."

"Blunt's really gone?" Asked Alex, wonderingly. It was hard for him to believe anyone would get worked up about him, and even harder to believe that Blunt was no longer the face of MI6. An important question occurred to him. "Who's the director now?"

"I am."

"Who's the assistant director?"

Mrs. Jones sighed, as this was precisely the way she didn't want this conversation to go.

"Alex, you have two choices right now. The first choice: you can leave now, as a free person with a new identity and new life."

"What's the catch?" Mrs. Jones' lip almost twitched. She was reminded yet again how much he understood MI6. More than most agents, that's for sure.

"Because of your infamous record, you need to be protected and safe at all times."

"Meaning?"

"A full team of SAS trained professionals will guard you 24/7. There is no compromise possible. Right now you are very popular with the... media, you could call it, in our circles, and your death would be a slap in the face to MI6."

"Second option?" Asked Alex. If Mrs. Jones was surprised at how little time Alex considered this option, she didn't show it.

"You stay in the employ of MI6 as a fully-fledged agent, and go straight to our senior ranks. This includes access to all MI6 resources all around the world. Your safety would still be a priority, but there will be more privacy if you choose this option because it is likely you will always be in MI6 sanctioned safe houses, and 24/7 watch on you personally will not be needed."

"What's the catch?"

"You—you," It seemed Mrs. Jones had still not mastered the art of speaking without emotion in her short time as Director. She blinked a couple of times before saying it. "You will have to accept the position of the Official Deputy Director of Military Intelligence Six."

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. On the outside, he just raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Maybe he was more cut out for this than he thought.

"Would you like time to consider?" asked Mrs. Jones.

"Yes, thank you."

"There is something else that is my sad duty to tell you."

"Did Smithers die?" asked Alex.

"Wha- no. He is fine. He is too invaluable to lose, though he is no longer the sole technician we have at our disposal. We have some new technicians to help him." So Smithers was fine and alive; being kept under watch no doubt after all that happened.

"Does this..." he gestured, meaning his offers at a better life, "mean that the Red Alert called on my behalf is now off?"

Mrs. Jones had a guilty look, "That... shall be your very first priority if you are instated as the Deputy Director of MI6."

Alex couldn't help but snort. Wouldn't that be a fun meeting... going into a room of highly paranoid people all ordered to kill him on sight and telling them he was now the deputy director of MI6.

"Alex, I have something a bit more serious to tell you." Did Mrs. Jones actually look... awkward? And she's been showing way too much emotion the past few minutes. "It's... it's about Jack." She stopped there, gauging his reaction.

Alex said nothing.

"I was unaware of Blunt's plans concerning her until it was too late. When I confronted Blunt later about the issue, he admitted to me that he did it because he wanted to continue Scorpia's training. e thought all it took to get you to kill was to give you a good target." She said it in a tone that clearly meant she was sorry.

"I was supposed to kill Greene..." Alex thought out loud.

"His plan was that you would kill Greene the moment he'd mentioned Scorpia, who did so much against your family. With him out of the way, there would be no trail back to us, and you would be more determined to finish Scorpia. You would also become a better weapon, a killer, with quite literally, nothing to lose."

Alex sucked in a breath. Through his long confinement, he'd come to grips with Jack's death, and was no longer as... violent in his reactions. However, hearing this cruel plan of Blunt's he felt a kind of steely anger settling over him.

Mrs. Jones looked a little worried. "Maybe I should tell you another time. When you're more at peace."

"I'm fine." Alex said calmly. "If there is more to this entire fiasco, I want to know it all now."

Mrs. Jones still looked worried.

"Really Mrs. Jones," he took a deep breath to better control his voice. "I need to hear everything now so I can come to full grips with the truth. If I'm to become deputy, I must be able to control my emotions."

"Alright." She said. "There was another reason why Jack was assassinated. I... I think it would be better to show you rather than tell." She removed the false bottom of the tray to reveal a sleek laptop. The screen illuminaed Ms Jones' tired face as she entered a long string of passwords. She handed the laptop over to Alex and clicked in a video file.

A grainy film showed a man in a windowless room with Jack. His back was to her and the camera, and she looked like she'd just cried. Seeing her sad, alive face was more shocking to Alex than he'd thought. He looked away, and blinked hard.

"Please, Alex. This is important." Said Mrs. Jones softly.

Alex looked up again.

The man in the video spoke, "You have exactly one month to consider our proposition." Just hearing it made him shiver.

Jack nodded her head behind the man. The date on the corner read January 25th.

The scene changed. They were in the same room but it was a different day, at a different time. They both had different clothes on, and the date on the screen read February 25th.

"A week before Jack..." whispered Alex, but he couldn't finish.

Jack spoke this time. "I've decided." There was finality and a long festering hurt and pain in her tone.

"And the verdict is?" asked the man on the screen.

Alex knew her decision before she'd even spoken. "I will help you." She took a deep breath, "I will tell you about Alex Rider, as long as you promise to get him away from MI6."

How could she? Thought Alex as tears welled up in his eyes. Why would she? Jack betray him? To a random gang, no less.

That was her way of trying to save you, thought the rational part of his brain. You've been so blind. You never realized how deep the hate she had for MI6 was. All he felt was sadness at this knowledge. He could never be angry at Jack... but the betrayal hurt.

Alex almost missed the start of what was said next.

"—Miss Starbright." The man finally turned around to look at her. "When will you have the information we need?"

"I'll deliver it personally, in a week."

The clip ended, the little scroll bar reached the end, and blackness filled the screen. Alex shook a bit, blinking away tears. Watching this clip, realizing the full story of what happened was like rubbing salt into an already festering wound that had barely started to heal.

Mrs. Jones watched this sadly. There was a long moment of silence, while Alex got a grip on himself. He didn't think he'd cried this much since... ever.

Finally, Alex was able to get some semblance of control; he looked at Mrs. Jones, waiting for the explanation that was sure to come.

"MI5 keeps tabs on all of the local gangs, and this was footage taken by them. One of our agents in MI5—"

"You spy on MI5?" interrupted Alex. MI5 was almost the same as MI6 except they handled internal affairs while MI6 handled International ones.

"We have agents everywhere." replied Mrs. Jones shortly. "As I was saying, MI5 keep tabs on all major gang activity in England. When a particular London gang suddenly had a massive increase to their bank account,"—Alex barely held back his surprised question as to gangs with bank accounts—"MI5 began to investigate where the money had come from, and possibly what major job they had agreed to do for the money."

"How much?" Alex questioned.

"Around two million dollars. Since the job was unsuccessful, the total price was probably higher, and this was only something given at the beginning as a sort of incentive." She informed him.

"When did our MI5 agent alert us to this development?" The use of 'our' was not lost on the new head and she smiled slightly as she answered.

"We received this knowledge completely by chance. Since you are one of our most well-guarded secrets—or was—our agent did not know the importance of Jack, or a boy named Alex Rider. The reason our agent even mentioned it to us was because of the money."

"They managed to trace it."

Mrs. Jones nodded. "To a bank account in France. Since this is entirely outside of England, our agent felt it might be good to warn us, and left a file. However, it was in the less-important pile, and though they knew Jack was involved since January 25th, at the start of the proposition, it wasn't until March 2nd or so when Blunt had happened to skim over the file. He immediately called the agent and asked for all of the information, and then he got the second tape we witnessed."

"The one where Jack said she agreed to the terms..."

Mrs. Jones nodded.

"So... are you saying that Blunt was trying to protect me when he ordered someone to assassinate Jack?"

"Alex, you should know by now that Blunt does nothing without multiple reasons. In real life, the good guys and bad guys are not as cut and dried. He did it for all of the reasons I told you at first, selfish ones, but also, a bit was to protect you." She smiled ruefully. "That doesn't mean you need to thank Alan or anything, but you should know he always did what he thought was right. Perhaps that explains a bit more why I stood by him all those years. I mean, though he blackmailed people to do the missions, the missions saved a lot of lives."

They sat there in silence for a bit, each in lost in their own thoughts.

"I'll tell you my decision in a few days. Can I stay here while I do? It's... familiar now."

Mrs. Jones nodded.

"Can I ask why? Why me?" Asked Alex, a bit of incredulity creeping into his voice.

"Plenty of reasons, actually. You have the support of the people in MI6. You are the only one at this time that can calm the turbid political waters. You are already so famously involved that there's no way for you to just leave or ever be just another agent. You won't be able to do undercover work ever again. You know our top agents through working with them, and are even friends with a few. You can digest and analyze information quickly and think on your feet. But you can also wait and plan your moves. You're the only senior agent that I can be sure doesn't have blackmail material floating around out there for someone to take advantage of. And, I think you would be a better moral compass for me than I ever was for Blunt."

"Isn't that dangerous to have, at your rank, in this world?"

"Yes, but it's more dangerous to not have, at my rank, as a human being."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"I'll be back in three days for your answer."

(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)_(I)

Fourteen days later, Alex Rider became the youngest ever Deputy of Military Intelligence Six.

Fourteen years later, Alex Rider became the youngest ever Head of MI6.

A/N: If you've read all the way to here and are reading this now, I love you. I'd love to hear what you think of the story, the characters, the writing, the plot, anything.