A/N: This story is essentially a collection of ficlets relating to my main story, "The Jaws of Death, the Mouth of Hell," which I recommend you read before working through any of these (although you might not necessarily need to). To all of you waiting on that story, life's been tough and school's eating up all my time, so huge apologies regarding my glacial updates. I'm almost done with chapter four, so look for that soon, but in the meantime, here's something to keep my story alive.

To any German speakers out there: Heute hatte ich meine Deutsch AP Prüfung, und es war sehr, sehr schwierig. Ich habe die ganze Nacht studiert, aber die Prüfung war immer noch schwer. Und nach meine Prüfung habe ich in meiner Biologie Klasse Deutsch sprechen, statt Englisch. Die gute Nachricht ist, dass mein Deutsch viel besser als bevor ist, und ich bin fast fließend!

So yes, the German AP Exam was terribly difficult, and I ended up accidentally speaking German instead of English in other classes after the exam. Whew. Also, I would like to announce that I have become a dedicated whovian and regularly cry my eyes out of words like 'fantastic' and 'bad wolf.' It's death.

All right, now some info about this small bonus feature. This ficlet stemmed from a review by The Mishmosh Bird, who had some very very interesting speculations regarding what would happen after JDMH chapter one. ty, Bird! Many of you have heard about this piece from JDMH itself, as this is the infamous alternate chapter! I've gotten lots of great advice on what to do with it and how to share it with those who want to see it, and since I'm writing another alternate file as I type this, I'm just going to collect them all in this fic.

Summary: An adaptation of JDMH chapter two - Alex's take on events.

Disclaimer: Nicht mein, nicht mein, immer nicht mein.

"Agent Roberts," Director Jones says, no trace of humour on her sharp features. "Thank you for doing this."

John nods. "It's my duty, ma'am. I can't sit by and do nothing, especially when so much is at stake," he manages to get out, still reeling from the information just passed on to him.

She nods, and there might be a flicker of pride in her face before it is wiped of emotion.

"Dismissed."

John rises from his chair with a soft, "Good afternoon, Director," and steps out of the office, head swimming with details. So distracted is he that he fails to notice the slim, fair-haired figure that strides into the head's office without knocking.

-o-

Alex Rider storms into the office of the director of MI6, eyes glinting with fury.

"Jones," he hisses at the woman, scarred hands clenched tightly. "Tell me why I just heard a rumour that you're sending an agent into SCORPIA." His hands are shaking, but he ignores them in favour of pinning the director with a steely gaze.

"Who told you—" she begins, but he doesn't let her finish.

"Does it matter? And it was Smithers," Alex adds, forestalling her reply. "He thought I would want to know, and he was right. What the hell are you thinking?"

"I have to," Jones replies wearily, her dark gaze holding Alex's. "They're making threats again."

"They always make threats," Alex snaps back. "Tell me what's changed. Tell me why you're sending someone in now, after so many years."

"I don't have to explain myself to you," the director says, but they both know she doesn't mean it.

"Oh yes you do," her best agent retorts, every line in his body taut with tension. "When it comes to this, you know damn well you owe me an explanation, and it had better be a good one."

"Alex—"

"Don't you 'Alex' me, Tulip Jones," he snarls. "I know them better than anyone else in this entire agency, better than you and Blunt and even my goddamned father and his assassin protégé did. So you'd better tell me exactly what they want, right now, before I go to Smithers and have him broadcast it to the world."

This sort of insubordination would never be tolerated from anyone else, but they both know she owes him far too much to reprimand him.

"As always, with SCORPIA…it's not so much what the threats are, but rather against whom," Jones capitulates. "They've found our moles, Alex. They've found every single mole we have planted in the Triads, the Yakuza, the mafia – and they're going to kill one for each day we don't deliver."

"What do they want?" Alex asks, all traces of previous emotion locked behind a grim mask, and here are the characteristics of a spy – the paranoia, the wariness, the jadedness. This man is battle-hardened and world-weary and utterly born to be a spy in the way so many others are not, all wrapped up in a package that's impossibly young. Because Alexis too young to be so experienced, the hardness in his eyes at odds with features that could belong to a university student.

Jones sighs. "They want what they always want - money, power, influence. This operation is so potentially damaging not only because of the consequences of the loss of all those agents, but because this order doesn't come from a client – it was developed solely by the board members of SCORPIA."

"It doesn't make sense," Alex frowns. "Yes, they want money and influence and all that, but they wouldn't undertake such a risky op without another motive." Suddenly, his eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. "Tell me, Jones, they've been honouring the agreement you made all those years ago, yes?"

"They have honoured it, yes, but—" and then her eyes go wide, wide with shock and slight horror. "Oh," she says. "Oh, I see."

Alex smiles grimly. "They can't touch me, not without breaking the agreement and having us destroy them, but they can sure as hell go after you."

"Damn," Jones whispers in a manner most decidedly uncharacteristic, but Alex isn't looking at her.

"Tell me," he says softly, "how old is he? The agent you're sending in," he elaborates at her look of confusion. "How old is he?"

"Twenty-four," Jones says, and Alex closes his eyes.

"Of course he is," he murmurs. "You pick them younger and greener every day, don't you, Jones?" he asks, but the director says nothing, watching instead the silent battle her best agent is having with himself.

"I'll go," Alex says suddenly, tension visible in every line of his body. "I'll go back, but don't you dare ever try to send some green agent into the heart of SCORPIA. Not now. Not when this is what they're planning."

"You can't go!" Jones protests instantly, just as he knew she would.

"Of course I can go," Alex says, barking out a rough laugh. "I don't need your permission – I have never needed your permission." He meets her gaze, then, and the hidden 'you've never asked my permission either' goes unsaid, as always, between them.

"They'll kill you, Alex," Jones tells him, her voice low. "They'll kill you and I'll have to send your body back to Daniels and explain why I sent you there when I swore you'd never go back."

The name sends something skidding across Alex's expression before his gaze shutters again. Alex closes his eyes. "Let them kill me. Better me than him," he says, and there is nothing she can really say to that. "What's his name, anyway?"

"John Roberts," Jones tells him, and Alex's eyes fly open.

"What?" he spits, staring at the director in shock. "You want to send a man named John Roberts into the heart of SCORPIA because you think he'll be safer there than I will? Are you mad?" His eyes grow dark again. "Have you forgotten Albert Bridge, Director Jones?" Her title is acid in his mouth.

She flinches. "No," she whispers. "I'll never forget Albert Bridge."

"John Roberts," Alex whispers again. "JR. John."

"I don't have a choice," Jones says, and now her mask comes crashing down, releasing emotions the way only Alex has seen her do before. "CIA, ASIS – no one's willing to send anyone in. We're on our own with this one." She pinches the bridge of her nose, and suddenly she looks so much older than the ageless woman Alex's been conversing with.

"I know," Alex tells her, and his voice is softer, gentler. "I've always known you don't have a choice. Even when—" he hesitates, and they both know he's skirting the ever-present elephant in the room. "It doesn't matter. You don't have a choice…but neither do I."

"I swore to you you'd never have to go back," Jones says. "I swore I'd never be like Blunt."

Alex winces at the name, but offers her a slight smile. "You're not. You've done everything you can to keep me away from them, but I can't let you send an untrained agent into their midst."

They both know any training this agent has will pale when compared to the obvious wealth of Alex's experience, evident in every motion the spy makes.

"The last time you went into SCORPIA, they damn near assassinated you," Jones says sharply.

"The last time I went to SCORPIA, I went alone," Alex tells her. "I was also…younger." Jones winces again.

"Too young," she murmurs to herself, and Alex pretends he hasn't heard her.

"I won't go after them," he says to her, and here she looks up.

"What?"

"It's not my mission, after all," Alex says, and Jones snorts.

"Since when has that stopped you?" This is familiar ground, their banter, free of the painful memories that lurk in the background.

Alex's lips twitch. "True enough. I won't get in his way, Jones. Roberts won't even know I'm there. I just can't let him go into that pit of hell alone. He needs me if he's going to come out alive."

"You're sure you want to go back." Jones' voice is composed, but Alex can hear the slight waver in her tone.

"I'm sure," Alex says, despite the tension in his body and the darkness that shadows his eyes. His shoulders are practically buckling with the weight of this mission and the emotional baggage that accompanies it, but he keeps his face blank, and all he says is a soft, "Thank you, Director Jones."

The woman jerks her head stiffly, looking slightly upset. "Anything else?"

Alex nods. "Only one more thing – permission to call in outside consultants? SAS, the like," he elaborates, seeing her expression.

"And Smithers?" the director asks shrewdly, and Alex's smile, though slight, is genuine.

"Of course," Alex answers her. "He's been on my side since day one." Jones winces at the veiled reminder of her own failings toward him, but neither acknowledges her reaction.

"I'll call you in to brief you fully tomorrow," she tells him, and Alex nods.

"I'll be there. Can I go now, Jones? I'd like to get home."

"Say hello to Daniels for me," she says, eyes softening, and he returns her gaze with a slight smile.

"I will. Goodbye, Jones," Alex says, hand on the doorknob, and a world of emotion and shared experience passes between them as the director responds.

"Go home, Alex," she says, and Alex nods and closes the door, not missing the slight sigh from within as Tulip Jones covers her face with her hands and swears softly.

Thoughts? Sorry for the monster A/N at the beginning, btw, but anyone who skipped right to the story and have reached this point should really take some time to go back and check out my note at the top, because it explains some things and gives a summary of the vignette.

Review, bitte?