This fic is based on a somewhat mutated version of this tumblr post: bakodo-tumblr-com-post/67880983469/i-just-want-an-au-where-alex-and-yassen-are. It ended up as a point-of-divergence fic rather than a complete AU, and there's a lot of the prompt that didn't fit into the fic, but that's where it was born.

The AO3 version of this will have illustrations by the incredibly talented wolfern. The way the fic ended up in parts means that the drawings will all show up in the second part but they're absolutely gorgeous and I can't wait to share them!

Part I: London

MI6 spent three months training John Rider for his undercover mission. It would be dangerous no matter what and everyone knew it, but it was at least as safe as anyone could manage. He didn't have the traditional intelligence background that prior attempts by several other intelligence agencies had relied on, but SCORPIA had shown an unpleasant ability to hunt down those undercover agents in the past. John Rider was still unknown in the intelligence world, he had no official connection to MI6, he had the background SCORPIA wanted, and he had enough of a killer instinct to thrive with the organisation. He was the best bet MI6 had and they weren't about to waste it.

Helen Rider was three months pregnant when John Rider decided that intelligence work could go bugger itself and told MI6 in no uncertain terms that they had six months to finish up their operation.

Or I'll do it myself, he didn't need to say. Hunter had already gained a reputation beyond MI6's wildest expectations. He was not a potential rogue agent but he was also not the undercover soldier they had first sent into the lion's den.

Alexander John Rider was born a week overdue; enough time for his parents to get settled a little and the debriefings to be handled.

"He wanted his father there," Helen told him afterwards, all exhausted smiles as she held the tiny miracle in her arms, and John felt his heart clench. For the woman who had stood by him through everything and the baby that had just become his world.

Whatever it took, he promised, he would keep them safe.

Ian, caught half a world away for another several weeks, called a florist and had flowers and a teddy bear delivered.

Jones sent her congratulations. Blunt looked a little constipated.

The Rider family, newly expanded, prepared to move to France.

Ash visited two days later on their first evening home and looked like hell warmed over. John had expected it. For the kind of injuries Ash had survived, his recovery so far was impressive, but he still had months to go.

"Bloody hell," Ash said when he arrived. "He already looks like his father. My condolences, Helen. We all hoped he would take after you."

John flipped him off. "He'll be a handsome devil, that's what you mean."

"A devil, all right. You'll need this, that's for sure." Ash half-threw a bottle of quality scotch at him and handed Helen a large box of chocolates with somewhat more care. Alex stirred a little and yawned, half-asleep on his mother's chest where she rested on the couch.

Ash settled down with slow, careful motions. He had been given a cane but had stubbornly ignored it. John would probably have done the same.

"Thank you," Helen said. Dark, experienced eyes gave him a long look. "How are you, Ash?"

If John had asked, the answer would have been half-hearted. Ash had never been able to lie to Helen, though. It didn't work with a nurse with her experience. He didn't look that good to John. Tired. Pale. In pain, to those who knew him well enough to tell. It was a miracle he was even doing that well. Yassen had been vicious. Hunter was proud; John Rider was conflicted. Yassen had fought for his life and for Hunter. Everything considered, Ash was lucky to be alive.

Ash grimaced. "Some days are better than others. No more field work, though. Maybe in the future, but Blunt …"

He trailed off. Kept his language nice for Helen, though his expression said it all. John didn't have the same qualms. Helen had never liked Blunt, not since he had first tried to order John to keep her out of the loop.

"... Is a bit of a cunt?" he suggested. Helen snorted. She had called him much worse.

"Yeah," Ash agreed. "That."

Alex seemed to realise someone else was there beyond his mother because he stirred again, this time followed by an unhappy sound as he made the first hungry, rooting motions.

John picked up Alex and held him as Helen got to her feet. Eight pounds of tiny, helpless baby. He weighed less than the sniper rifles John had used in his career, and John held him a little closer, hands curled protectively around him. Alex settled a little but John could tell he still wasn't happy. Their son had a healthy appetite and no patience when it came to food.

Helen smiled. Kissed his cheek and accepted Alex back, then vanished upstairs to feed him.

John opened the bottle of scotch and poured a glass. Offered Ash one as well and the man nodded after a second.

"Probably shouldn't," he admitted but accepted the glass, anyway.

They both drank it slowly. John savoured the taste, something he hadn't had much chance to do for more months than he cared to think about. Rothman had favoured expensive wines to go with her taste in expensive restaurants. John had never cared much for either of those.

"How's parenthood?" Ash finally asked.

"… weird," John admitted. "I was all set for an MI6 career and now I can't get out of that mess fast enough. I won't let Alex grow up in that kind of life."

Have him come home from school one day and just … not have his dad come back home again ever. Missing in some enemy country or another, fate unknown but presumed dead, and that was assuming they would even get the truth. Helen knew his job. That still didn't mean MI6 wouldn't give her some lie instead.

John Rider had joined MI6 to serve his country. Now he found that England could go hang if it would keep Alex safe.

"Ian's going to be disappointed."

"Ian thinks it's all a laugh. Ian's going to get himself killed one of these days." Some days John thought his little brother was the dumbest shit that had ever managed to walk and breathe at the same time. This was one of those days.

"He's a good agent," Ash said neutrally. "Blunt likes him."

"He's fucking naïve, that's what he is. You know it just as well as I do. Blunt likes me, too. He likes me so much that I'm about to be shipped off to France to hide with my family under a whole new identity because of that whole SCORPIA mess. John Rider will be dead. He'll die as a disgraced former soldier and that's all he'll ever be. That's how much Blunt's approval is worth. I'm getting out before it puts Alex in danger, too."

Ash nodded. He didn't argue. John hadn't expected him to, either. Not after Ash's own recent experiences with Alan Blunt. Mistakes happened but Blunt wasn't the type to accept them. John didn't have much of an opinion on it. Sure, Ash had screwed up and people had died but Blunt and Jones hadn't exactly been blameless, either. Ash had followed the script but everyone had underestimated just how deadly Yassen was. Maybe John held part of the blame for that, too. He hadn't exactly been forthcoming about details on the kid. Yassen was a good kid caught up in shitty circumstances. He didn't deserve the sort of attention he would get if MI6 decided he was useful.

They fell silent. Ash brought out a smoke. John turned it down. He had liked them once. Still did, and the craving was right there, the urge to smoke just one, but months with SCORPIA had kept him on the straight and narrow. Well, when it came to alcohol, smokes, and drugs, anyway. Anything that might slow him down in any way. In that kind of environment, the slightest mistake could get him killed.

"France, then," Ash eventually said. "It'll be all wine and cheese and baguettes. I'll make sure your scotch finds a good home."

John grimaced. "Just keep it away from Ian. He's got shit taste."

Young, impulsive, and drunk on the rush of adrenaline and the surprisingly decent salary MI6 could actually manage for the really dangerous missions. John wouldn't call it impressive, not with the sort of money SCORPIA had paid, but surprisingly decent for a government agency.

Ash snorted and winced at the movement. John Rider was grateful the man had survived. Hunter, dark and sharp and deadly, wanted words with Yassen. You do not leave an enemy alive, and Yassen had been trained better than that. There were things John would never admit. Hunter was one of them.

John took a slow breath. Let it out again. Drank the last of his glass in one mouthful.

"… Here's hoping Alex will grow up in an easier fucking world than us," he finally said.

Ash grimaced. Polished off his own glass with the look of someone who did it solely to spite his own body. "I'll drink to that. Fuck Blunt. Fuck MI6."

Fuck espionage. John Rider was done.

In the end, John went in for one last go. Get that kid out of SCORPIA's claws. Fake his death. Tie up the last loose ends and close that part of his life for good.

"You're done?" Helen asked when he finally got home in a new suit, a bruise on his back, fake blood washed off of his skin, and his old clothes destroyed.

"I'm done," John said and meant it.

In one world, Yassen Gregorovich heard about Albert Bridge and chose to ignore it. He held no loyalty to SCORPIA or to anyone these days, but Hunter had saved his life and Yassen would not forget that. He was sure Hunter was still alive. He was sure SCORPIA would pay a fortune for the truth. Yassen Gregorovich still never spoke a word about it.

In another world, Yassen Gregorovich heard about Albert Bridge and, for a second, hesitated. He held no loyalty to SCORPIA or to anyone these days, but Hunter had saved his life, Yassen had trusted him like he hadn't trusted anyone since Estrov, and Yassen needed to know.

Yassen hesitated. Then he bought a ticket with money SCORPIA didn't know about and went to London.

Two days after his faked death and permanent extraction from SCORPIA, John Rider opened the front door of the home they'd already sold and found Yassen Gregorovich on his front step.

Before John could say anything – this was the last thing he expected – Yassen spoke.

"I know you were a double agent," he said, bitter and a little rushed, like he wanted to get the words out before he changed his mind. John wondered how long the kid just stood there before he rang the doorbell. "I knew they wouldn't have shot you."

Hunter, mostly dormant since his return to London, uncurled in John's mind, cold-blooded and serpentine. He liked Yassen, he was a good kid that John would have helped in a heartbeat if he'd been able to at all, but if he was a threat to Helen, to Alex -

Maybe Yassen knew, maybe he could tell, because he continued, the bitterness still in his voice. "I haven't told anyone, I don't think anyone else suspects. I just – had to know."

Whatever happened to turn that kid from someone ready to run and never look back and into a cold-blooded killer, John never found out but now he thought he had a pretty good idea.

Betrayal. Yassen found out about John's role and lost the one person he trusted unconditionally. Hunter never had a moment of guilt about the things he did during his time with SCORPIA, couldn't afford to feel guilt, but now it was there, dark and bleak and toxic.

Self-preservation told him Yassen was a threat, a danger to be removed. John ignored it and made a split-second decision.

"Get inside," he said, "before you catch a cold."

"I'm Russian," Yassen replied but stepped inside, anyway. John closed the door behind him.

"And London this time of year is perfect pneumonia weather."

Footsteps in the hallway and Helen appeared a moment later with Alex in her arms, drawn by the sound of voices.

"This is Yassen," John introduced him. "My student in Venice. He covered for us in Paris. Yassen, my wife, Helen, and Alex. He's four weeks old."

Helen shifted Alex slightly and smiled, small but genuine. John never imagined the two of them would meet, Helen and Yassen, but he always hoped they would get along.

"Thank you, Yassen. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

She didn't know all the details but she knew enough despite the best of MI6's efforts to keep her in the dark. John was familiar enough with Yassen to tell that he was adding the clues together, too, and the moment he understood that Helen knew and didn't judge.

Yassen's attention drifted to Alex, the tiny baby that made John go enough, get me out, and there was both loss and vulnerability in his eyes. It wasn't the future master assassin in the making that John left with SCORPIA but the kid that John first saw, young and unsure of his place in the world.

Outside, John Rider looked calm. At ease with the situation. Inside, Hunter was rapidly shifting through their options, discarding one after the other with brutal efficiency.

If Yassen found them, others could, too. Sure, Yassen knew he was alive – suspected, anyway – but all it would take would be one suspicious person, a single board member who wanted to look closer at things, and the game would be up. Every hour they spent in London now would bring them one step closer to discovery.

MI6 had guaranteed their safety. That had been John's price for going undercover. A few weeks in London, then permanently relocated to France and a brand new life.

Yassen's presence was proof they failed. Maybe for lack of trying, maybe because they underestimated the danger, maybe for more sinister reasons – John didn't know and didn't care.

His family was in danger and the list of people he could trust beyond his own family – beyond Helen and Ian – just narrowed down to … well. Yassen, he suspected.

He couldn't trust MI6 any more. SCORPIA had plenty of moles and he had been a fool to believe their reassurances. He could trust no one, not Blunt, not Jones, not Ash. No one.

As John watched, Yassen accepted Alex from Helen, unsure but infinitely gentle, and Hunter's plans shifted a little more. Yassen didn't trust him any more, not the way he used to, not that unconditional faith and loyalty, but – enough. Enough to do this, maybe. He was not the kid who wore his heart on his sleeve any more, but he wasn't SCORPIA's creature, either. Not yet.

Helen could read him like an open book. She glanced at him but John shook his head minutely. They could talk later.

Yassen stayed the night. It was late, it was cold, he was tired, and he seemed to have arrived on a whim more than anything. Sometimes it was easy to forget the kid had only just turned twenty.

"John?" Helen asked that night, Alex nursing and clinging to her blouse.

"If Yassen found us, others can, too. We have to leave. We can't risk France."

MI6 never wanted Helen involved in things but John kept her up to date, anyway. They could both keep a secret. It was priceless now when she didn't need the background explained.

"You want to bring Yassen along."

"Yes." Because he was a kid, because he deserved better, because John wouldn't let SCORPIA have him if he could help it, and because he had the sinking feeling he might just owe Yassen his life – his and Helen's and Alex's – for what that kid just did.

Helen was silent for long seconds. Then she nodded.

"All right." She shifted Alex slightly. "Ian? Ash?"

John had already considered that. The conclusion was not a nice one. Alex should have grown up with Ash as his godfather and Ian as his uncle. They had already decided that if they had a second child, Ian would be the godfather. But then SCORPIA had happened, SCORPIA and Malta and everything and -

- It wasn't John's business any more. He was out of it now. Out of intelligence work, out of MI6. He was too well-known to be useful to them now.

Helen and Alex came first.

"We'll tell Ian if it's safe." Eventually, he didn't add. He didn't mention Ash and that was all the answer Helen needed.

Helen nodded again. Just like that, their future was decided.

Yassen took a bit more convincing.

"You don't owe me anything." Still angry, still bitter, still betrayed, and now prideful on top. Sometimes John was painfully reminded of just how young Yassen really was.

"I think I do," John told him bluntly. "We would have trusted MI6 to keep us safe. If you found us here, others could, too. That's not the point, though. I'm giving you the choice, Yassen. Something other than SCORPIA."

Yassen stilled. He couldn't keep his expression completely unreadable but close enough these days. John had the dark suspicion that Yassen's discovery of his true loyalties had caused a lot of that sudden ability as well.

"They trained me. I owe them." The words lacked any conviction.

"You owe them nothing." Yassen opened his mouth to argue but John cut him off. "Money? Your servitude for the next five years? Yassen, they calculate that a certain number of students don't live long enough to be useful to them. You have potential, yes. A lot of it. They still won't bother hunting you down. Stay out of their way and they'll write you off as just another failed student."

Something flickered through Yassen's eyes, wounded pride or stubbornness. "I didn't fail."

"So you'll go back to them and let them hold your leash?" Yassen didn't answer. John sighed. "They'll take anything they can get. Your life, your loyalty, everything they can. You're young, much younger than their usual students. They know that by the time your exclusive contract runs out, you'll be so dependent on SCORPIA that you will have nowhere else to go. MI6 needed someone with my background to go undercover but they also needed someone older and settled. It's too easy to get caught up in that world when you're young and still trying to figure things out. They'll vet your assignments, arrange for travel, weapons, and cover identities, they'll handle your payment … eventually, it'll feel like just another job."

Yassen was silent, the way he had been at Malagosto when he considered one of John's lessons. That was a good sign, at least.

Vanish into Russia, John had told him. Get out of this world. This was no different.

Cool, calculating eyes focused on John again; a glimpse of the man Yassen might one day become. "And if I want to keep doing this without SCORPIA?"

"I would prefer if you didn't but I'm not going to stop you." John didn't like it but Hunter, brutally pragmatic, understood. This was all Yassen had. This was what he had trained for. This was what John Rider's betrayal had pushed him to. If that was what Yassen wanted, John wasn't going to stop him. He had already tried once and failed. "It takes a lot more to make it as a freelance operative without that kind of support network than you think, but if you can do it, I won't stop you."

Yassen was still for long seconds. "Why?" he finally asked.

"Because I like you and I'll be damned if I'm letting SCORPIA have you."

The answer was blunt and honest in a way that SCORPIA had never been. It also seemed to handle what calm logic and reasonable arguments couldn't.

"… How would we do this, then?" Cautious curiosity, but enough that Hunter knew in that moment that he had won.

"Family makes the best cover. You can pass for a year or two younger. I can bump my age up a bit. Ten years age difference is a bit hard to work with. Put you at eighteen and me at thirty-five, and it's seventeen years instead. That's a bit of a young age to have your first kid but not unheard of. You'll be my son. Alex's half-brother. Any difference in looks will be credited to your imaginary mother."

It was a gamble; a big one. John knew Yassen's history; the bare bones of it at least. If Yassen took the suggestion badly, it could all fail. If he went along with it, though – SCORPIA would be looking for a family with an infant, not a family with a teenage son and a newborn. It would be a lot safer that way for all four of them. If SCORPIA took badly to Yassen's disappearance, they would be hunting a twenty-year-old young man on his own, not the eighteen-year-old son of a stable, loving family.

Yassen hesitated. John wondered what went through his mind. The family he had lost? That moment of betrayal, when he had realised just where John's true loyalties lay?

"Yassen."

Blue eyes met warm brown and John continued. "I won't apologise for doing my job but that doesn't mean you were just part of my cover. I trained you the best I could because I wanted you to survive and have a chance, even if you'd end up working against me at some point."

"You wanted me to leave. I almost did. Then I found that battery in your bag. The Power Plus one."

John had wondered about that, too. Just how Yassen had found out. Now he knew. He wanted to laugh. "Figures. A damn beginner's mistake. You could have damned me a dozen times over. SCORPIA would pay a lot to get rid of a mole in my position. Let me do this. I'm not trying to replace your family, I know I can't, but I can give you a chance. What you choose to do with it, that's not my business, but let me give you that choice."

Trust me. Give me the chance.

Silence. The seconds stretched on. John didn't move and neither did Yassen.

Then, finally -

"… Yes," Yassen said, and John made a silent promise to prove himself worthy of that trust.

John Rider had money. Not everything he got from SCORPIA ended up in the account MI6 knew about. He had enough hidden funds for new identities that could pass for legitimate. He had enough to get them out of the country and to settle somewhere else. He did not have enough to start over completely from scratch.

John Rider drained two of SCORPIA's slush funds. Not the ones Hunter might know about, of course. He wasn't suicidal. He still left Zurich with almost three million in Swiss Franc.

The bank asked no questions. He said the right things, showed the proper authorisation. They didn't care about anything else.

Someone would probably die for that little slip in security. John couldn't bring himself to care.

They had decisions to make. A place to settle. John wanted a bit of distance to the Iron Curtain. Italy was out of the question, at least the northern parts. So was France, too close to their original plans.

He kept drifting back to Switzerland. Away from Zurich, of course, and the accounts he had just drained, but SCORPIA would not expect him to stick around even if they figured it out.

… Geneva, maybe. John had never told anyone but he had always liked that part of the world. He suspected Helen would, too.

The day they left was a carefully orchestrated dance. John transferred the money in his official accounts the day before, just before the end of banking hours. The money would pass through several more banks before he picked them up in person in Madrid some four weeks later; a new person with a new identity.

He had almost left them in the bank and written them off as not worth the risk but it wasn't exactly spare change and it was a matter of principle to him. And he had no way to know if they would need them one day.

The Rider family left for Germany. Yassen met them in Frankfurt.

Five hours, three burned passports, and some new paperwork later, the trail ended for any pursuers they may have had, and the Morrison family left Frankfurt by car, bound for Switzerland.

In one world, a small plane bound for France exploded shortly after take-off in the early hours of a cold April morning. There would be no survivors.

In another, that same morning, Séamus and Caroline Morrison signed the paperwork for a lovely, somewhat secluded house outside of Geneva for themselves and their two sons.

A/N: I've kept Alex's birth year as 1987. While it doesn't fit with technology and more current events in the later books, it fits with what came before the books, like John Rider being a Falkland War veteran and SCORPIA being founded by Cold War spies who realised they would be out of a job soon. Alex would have been two and a half years old by the time the Berlin Wall fell. He would be too young to remember it but John, a veteran and MI6 agent, would certainly be well aware of it.

I'm hopelessly behind on review replies for Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, but I plan to get to those this weekend. The Big Bang has a deadline of February 1st so this fic got first priority.

I, uh, have no idea of how many parts this will be. Four or five, maybe? I'm finishing up the second one and started working on the third one. I'm hoping to update weekly, since it's a reasonably short one.