An Unexpected Return

When Alex finds himself back at Brookland ten years after graduating, he discovers that his name has yet to be forgotten. Oh dear. New students and old teachers alike might just have trouble wrapping their minds around the idea of a respectable Alex Rider, age twenty-seven, and obviously not a gang member or drug addict.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to say I don't own Alex Rider do I? Because I don't. In case you were wondering. Which you probably weren't. Since Anthony Horowitz isn't a teenage girl (and I am). In case you were wondering. Again.

The building wasn't unusual in any way. With red bricks, three stories, and bushes and trees sprawled across the grounds, the school was absolutely nondescript. There was nothing there that could bring anyone's attention to it. Unless that anyone happened to be Alex Rider, MI6 field agent extraordinaire.

On this particular day, Alex had the esteemed privilege of paying back a favor to one Jason Chase, codename Snake, by picking up his daughter Kathryn, and taking her to a doctor's appointment. By some sadistic twist of fate, Kathryn's school happened to be Alex's old school and current nightmare.

Brookland.

And so Alex found himself in Brookland's parking lot, head pressed against the steering wheel. Ten years I've avoided this place! And now's when I finally have to go back? Thanks, Snake. You're a great pal. Taking a deep breath, Alex muttered a prayer to whoever the hell was listening up there, stepped out of his car, and strode into the building.

He was dressed in the usual MI6 spy chic: black slacks, white dress shirt, black suit coat, skinny black tie. The only things that personalized the look were Alex's unruly dirty blonde hair (relatively unchanged since his teenage years), and the small diamond stud in his left ear.

Alex passed lines of dented grey lockers still pushed against both walls of the hallway. The faint drones of lecturing teachers mingled with his echoing footsteps as Alex passed their open doorways. He chuckled. Nothing has changed... I can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing. Reaching the door of the office, Alex glanced at the motivational posters still decorating the wall. One proclaimed in dulled neon colors, "Thirty years from now, it won't matter what shoes you wore, how your hair looked, or the jeans you bought. What will matter is what you learned and how you used it!" Does learning how to stop worldwide terrorist agencies and conspiracy plots count? I've used that a lot. Actually, that would be a fun class to teach. Ha, Blunt would probably love having me raise a new generation of Alex Riders. His attention was torn from the poster with the clicking of heels.

"Hello, may I help you with something?" Mrs. Bedfordshire plopped a heap of papers onto her desk. She turned to Alex, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"I'm here to pick up Kathryn Chase for a doctor's appointment."

"Let me check what room she's in." Mrs. Bedfordshire tilted her head as a puzzled look appeared on her face, then turned to the computer. Suddenly, her head rose, eyes locking on Alex's. "Alex Rider!"

As tempted as Alex was to deny his identity and insist he was Ben Daniels, he gathered his courage and nodded his head. "Hello, Mrs. Bedfordshire," Alex said quietly.

"Alex, it's been so long! How are you? How's Jack? Are your sicknesses any better?" Question after question spewed from Mrs. Bedfordshire's mouth. She radiated motherly concern.

"I'm alright, Jack's off married in America, and my immune system seemed to repair itself by the time I finished my GSCE's. How did you figure out who I am?"

"Your name's on the list of approved guardians for Kathryn and you look the same as you did when you were here. Plus, you made quite an impression back then." Alex snorted at the understatement. "In fact, you're a bit of an urban legend at Brookland now. With those sicknesses, and you disappearing all the time…" Her voice trailed off at the unhappy thoughts. Mrs. Bedfordshire had always been worried about Alex's welfare back then. "Anyway, it's great to see you're doing well," smiled Mrs. Bedfordshire.

"Thanks. Can you tell me what room Kathryn is in?" Alex prompted the wistful secretary.

"Oh, right. Room 202, the same old science wing as ever. Actually, I think you can get her yourself. I've got loads of work to complete." She gestured to the stack of papers. "Just don't forget to come back here to sign her out." With that, Mrs. Bedfordshire shooed a harried Alex out of her office.

Room 210, 208, 206- Mrs. Gordon's still teaching physics, then? That crazy old bat, thought Alex fondly, steps slowing as he noticed the little things that hadn't changed since he left… and the things that reminded him of what he missed, thanks to his corrupted childhood. He shuffled along, hands secure in his pockets, nostalgia wrapped around his mind. Here we are, 202. Alex peered through the door's window. At the head of the class, wearing safety goggles and a voluminous white lab coat, stood Alex's old chemistry teacher, Dr. Haynes. Renowned through the school as one of the best teachers, Haynes was enthusiastic, funny, and actually taught well. He was in the middle of an experiment.

"…the acetic acid reacts with the sodium bicarbonate, ultimately resulting in three products, and a mountain of fizzy explosions for you guys.

"So, you've seen the experiment; you have the materials at your lab stations. By the end of the hour I want you to answer all of the questions in your packet. Don't forget to balance out the equation and determine the products and type of reaction you're creating before solving any of the calculations."

Alex unobtrusively walked through the door, making a beeline towards Dr. Haynes. "Hi, Mrs. Bedfordshire sent me up to collect Kathryn Chase for a doctor's appointment."

"Of course, of course," sang out Haynes. "Ms. Kathryn, up to the front, please. And grab your stuff."

Blue eyes locked onto the figure beside Dr. Haynes and a grin slipped onto Kathryn's face. Dumping her supplies pell-mell into her bookbag, she walked calmly down the aisle, only to lose all restraint as she hugged Alex tightly. A small lopsided smile appeared on Alex's face as he returned the hug.

"Hi, Uncle Cub! When'd you get back?" Kathryn had pulled back, attempting to tame her brunette hair into order. She straightened her light blue skirt and simple white blouse. At 5'10", Alex stood a good half foot taller than her.

"Calm down, kid. I got back a day ago. Your dad somehow roped me into taking you to the doctor's. Can't believe I'm forced to spend the day with a munchkin like you," muttered Alex.

"Hey! I resent that," pouted the fifteen-year-old. At the sight of her amused Chemistry teacher, Kathryn turned to all business. "What homework do we have tonight?"

"Just finish the packet. Get measurements from your lab partner. And don't pull an Alex Rider on us; we don't want you getting sick, now would we?"

Alex's face froze. The only visible sign of his agitation was a slight twitch in his fingers, itching to drum against his leg. You've got to be kidding me. I couldn't have been THAT much of a mystery. I thought Mrs. Bedfordshire was exaggerating! How the hell do they still remember my name?

Alex said in a strained voice, "Well, we'd best be off, the doctor's appointment is wai-"

"Well, that's weird! Uncle Cub's real name is Alex Rider! What a coincidence," interrupted Kathryn, a snicker escaping from her lips. She had seen the reaction Dr. Haynes' comment had elicited from Alex and put the pieces together. The mindless speculation of whether the infamous Alex Rider of Brooklands legend was the same as her Uncle had proven to be true.

Dr. Haynes' eyebrows shot into his black hair, surprise etched into his features. He turned to face the so-called Alex Rider head on. Certainly the hair was the same (though, Haynes admitted, hair is something can change all too easily, his balding curls a prime example of the phenomenon), the football player's build with a few more inches added for good measure– and the eyes. They had intensified from the sullen, serious brown eyes Alex had at graduation to shadowed ones, sorrow hidden in their depths. A look not readily acquired. Haynes murmured, almost to himself, "It really is you." Louder, he continued, "Apparently someone has been doing well. I take it the sickness has been cured and you are able to live without crippling bouts of illness stopping your life every few weeks?"

"Something like that," sighed Alex. "But Kathryn-"

"Ah, yes, how do you know Kathyrn?" asked Haynes.

"I've worked with her father. Now, we really have to go."

"Wait a moment, Mr. Rider," Haynes cut-in indignantly– and loudly. The students were starting to stare at the enigmatic stranger in the classroom. "I would love to hear about what you've been up to for the past decade."

"It hasn't been exciting, Dr. Haynes."

"Says the man who passed his GSCEs with flying colors, despite barely showing up for class."

"Being ill gave me a lot of free time to study with."

"And scars. And a body fit for a professional athlete."

"Keeping in shape keeps the illness away."

"The scars?"

Alex paused. He was unsure of Haynes' ultimate goal.

"I happen to know Kathryn's father works for the military. SAS, in fact," informed Haynes.

"What are you suggesting, Dr. Haynes?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Nothing, I'm merely stating a series of facts. You forget what a fascinating student you were, at least when you bothered to show up," grinned Haynes. Alex was quite the conundrum. "Now, I believe that my students have spent enough time ogling at the renowned Brooklands legend. Out you go. Feel free to come visit whenever you want. Except on Thursdays. Thursdays never work."

Alex and Kathryn (and a not-so-discreet class of chemistry students) stood gawking at the teacher. If anything could be said of Haynes, it would be that he was a strange, strange man.

"Out!"

Alex skedaddled, Kathryn hastily following in his wake. As they departed, they heard the faint shout, "What, have you all finished the experiment already? Then who would like to volunteer to write their calculations on the board? Yes, that's what I presumed."

There was no way Alex couldn't come back.

As long as it wasn't on a Thursday.

Author's note time. Please review! I write so that I can improve, but unless I get reviews, I won't know how to get better and actually make my stories fabulous. Nice, constructive criticism would be most appreciated (though I'm really not all that picky). I'm going to continue this, but I only have vague ideas as to what will happen. Hope you enjoyed the first part, and tell me if you have any ideas, comments, questions, criticisms, witticisms, and/or limericks!

NOTE (7-24-2011): Proofreading edits.

NOTE (4-6-2013): Minor edits. Gosh, I wish I could change some of the less superficial stuff. *chuckles* Two years have certainly changed my perspective...