"Alex, take it up the field!" Tom swung his leg back and shot off a beautiful pass in Alex's direction. Alex skillfully dribbled it between his feet and brought his foot around in a wide ark, sending the ball in the direction of the goal just before a defender reached his position. The ball soared through the air and into the corner of the goal. Tom cheered as another point was added to the scoreboard.

"Good job, Alex! Nice assist, Tom!" Alex subconsciously picked up on the American accent that called to him from the sidelines. Tom, breathing heavily, nudged Alex in the side and winked.

"I think she has a thing for me...now that Yassen Russianorovich, or whatever his name was, is out of the picture," Tom, conveniently forgetting that he already had a girlfriend, said as they resumed their position. Alex felt a twinge of annoyance with his best friend. Reminding himself quickly that Tom was only kidding, he resisted the urge to correct Yassen's name. He was interrupted by the shrill blow of a whistle as the other team called a timeout. They jogged steadily over to the beach, resuming their previous conversation.

"Yeah...she was really down about it for a while." Alex tried to act casual. He carefully concealed the fact from his best friend that he had been just as disappointed as Jack.

"So, what happens now? Does MI6 ship him back to Russia?" Tom asked, curious as usual when it came to matters involving Alex's part time job.

"Yeah, right, I highly doubt that." Alex snorted.

"What? Do you think they'll kill him?" Tom said, louder than he had intended. The two friends looked up, only to discover that they were surrounded by gaping mouths and raised eyebrows. As team captain, Tom quickly recovered, "As I was saying to Alex...we may have a lead, but we can't get cocky. We need to kill them...figuratively of course, I don't know what you all were thinking...after all, we came here to play football, not sit on the bench and cheer like a bunch of pansies. Right, Sean?"

Sean dropped the tray of water bottles he was holding with a loud thud. A few snickers could be heard from the rest of the team. Sean looked like he was about to say something particularly unpleasant, but Tom quickly cut him off.

"Alright, cheer on three then?" Tom grinned and the rest of the team followed suit, cheering loudly as they regained the field.

"Nice save," Alex muttered to Tom as he jogged past him.

"Anytime, Alex!" Tom winked. The rest of the game seemed a blur to Alex. He remembered kicking and running and eventually winning, but for the most part his mind remained focused on Yassen. He had been frankly more worried about how the situation would effect his spying activity (now that Jack had a visa) and he hadn't thought about what exactly would happen to Yassen. He knew that the Russian had planned to turn himself in to MI6, he had learned that much from Yassen's letter, but what happened afterward was a complete guess to Alex. He could only assume death or life in prison. Neither one sounded particularly pleasant.

"Alex!" Jack was walking across the field towards him as he packed up his cleats. He had a sudden sense of Deja vu, remembering the last time Jack had walked across the field she had a certain Russian assassin by her side. Alex wondered if Jack was having similar thoughts. He could guess by her thoughtful expression that she was.

"Hey, Jack, did you enjoy the game?" He slung his bag over his shoulder and waved goodbye to Tom.

"You did great, Alex." She smiled, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Thanks, Jack," The two exchanged few words for the rest of the car ride home. Since Yassen left, Jack had been unsually quiet. It was becoming more and more common that car rides or mealtimes would pass without either Jack or Alex exchanging a word. It was the first time since Ian's death that Alex had seen Jack so uncharacteristically quiet. She sighed as she came to a stop, finally breaking the stagnant pause.

"I was thinking maybe we could go out to dinner tonight, I don't really feel much like cooking." Jack admitted. Alex nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds fine...I'm not really that hungry." He responded, gazing out the window as a rush of oncoming traffic swept by. Finally it was Jack's turn to go. Flicking on her turn signal at the last minute she swerved to the left and drove in the direction of the house. Alex looked at the American questioningly.

"I forgot my wallet," She growled. Alex could tell that she was frustrated with herself. She had always been a bit absentminded before, but the Yassen ordeal had made it even worse.

"It's fine, Jack," Alex tried to calm her down, "I need to change out of my football uniform anyway,"

Jack pulled into the gravel driveway and put the car in park. Unlocking the door, she immediately began searching for her wallet as Alex dashed up the stairs to his room. Stripping off his sweaty jersey, Alex collapsed on the bed. Exhausted, he studied the clock, estimating how long of a nap he could take before Jack found her wallet. He had barely closed his eyelids when the phone began to ring. Sighing, he dragged himself out of bed and pulled on a clean t-shirt. He picked up the phone on it's last ring, and immediately wished he hadn't after the voice on the other line began to speak.

"Hello, this is Crawley. I need to speak to Alex Rider." Alex stood holding the phone for a few seconds, debating whether he should angrily hang up or tell Crawley where exactly he could put his telephone.

"Jack has her own visa now." Alex finally spoke, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"Yes," Alex could hear Crawley's awkward cough clearly over the speaker, "Well...that really is beside the point...nevertheless, Blunt has asked me to call you to his office. He says that you may, um...have Miss Starbright drive you here if you wish...MI6 won't be sending a car this time."

Alex wondered if Blunt felt sorry about locking him in a cell without food or water, and was trying to make up for it by allowing the spy to use a transportation of his own choosing. Blunt obviously didn't feel sorry enough about the incident to leave Alex alone completely, something that Alex had not-so-secretly hoped for after a month of not hearing from MI6. Alex mentally hit himself for forgetting about Blunt's lack of a conscious.

"...in an hour....Alex, um...Alex, are you still there?" Alex hadn't realized that Crawley had been speaking.

"Yeah, sorry, what was that?" He sighed inwardly.

"I said, try to get here in an hour. Blunt has a tight schedule, as you, ah...already know. MI6 is a very busy place." Crawley sounded slightly agitated and Alex quickly got the hint that the agent was trying to get him off the phone. Crawley probably thought himself above scheduling appointments for a teenager.

"Hey Crawley...how's your dog doing?" Alex asked, smirking as he mentally pictured Crawley's expression, "You know...the one I saw before you sent me on the Wimbledon assignment. I'm looking for a bit of extra cash, so if you ever need someone to walk him for you, I'd consider it my duty to the British government. Wouldn't you agree?"

Alex heard the phone click as the line went dead. He hung up the phone angrily and trudged down the steps.

---

Alex ended up taking the metro. He didn't have the heart to ask Jack to drive to the Royal and General after what had happened. She had known from the look on his face that the news had not been good, but fortunately she hadn't asked many questions when he said he needed to go out for a while. She had simply nodded goodbye and told him to give her a call on his mobile when he needed to be picked up. Alex didn't bother to check that he had the right building as he made his way up the steps of the Royal and General. He'd been there so many times that he knew the building by heart. In fact, each time he had come here the scenarios had been so similar he could barely tell them apart. He'd be sent by a receptionist up an elevator to floor sixteen where he'd wait outside of office 1605. Eventually he'd be called in by Blunt himself, and the spy would enter the room to find Mrs Jones standing stiffly next to Blunt in her starched, ugly suit as she chewed on a peppermint. In fact, this was exactly where Alex found himself now.

"Alex, we owe you an apology." Mrs Jones began speaking first, Alan Blunt waiting expectantly next to her. Alex almost snorted in amusement, this was all too typical an introduction. Almost every debreifing with MI6 he had started in a similar fashion, "I can tell you don't believe we're serious, Alex, but truely...we should have never used you in that way."

"But it didn't matter, you went ahead with it anyway." Alex found his previous anger had vanished. He was indifferent to the entire situation. Everything MI6 said was a lie, and there was no use in telling them otherwise.

"Alex, you have to understand," Mrs Jones moved out from behind the desk, almost pleading with the teenager, "We were desperate to get Gregorovich. Desperate enough to take advantage of you in a way that went against MI6's morals."

Alex decided that although it may have gone against their morals, but it certainly didn't go against their ethics. MI6 had a clever way of convincing themselves of the unavoidable necessity of their decisions. Alex wondered what final decision had been made concerning Yassen. He was almost tempted to ask, but he found himself afraid of the answer. The words caught in his throat.

"Is that the only reason you called me here...to apologize?" Alex quickly recovered, hoping Mrs Jones hadn't noticed his struggle.

"No, Alex," Blunt spoke on cue, dropping the compassion and taking over the business portion of Mrs Jones' speech. Alex began to feel like he was trapped in the script of some strange television drama. Mrs Jones and Alan Blunt had carefully rehearsed their lines, "The reason we brought you here is to give you a decision you haven't properly had since your uncle died."

Alex suddenly felt unsteady on his feet as a wave of dizziness rushed over him. This was something entirely new.

"We are giving you the option. You can walk out of Royal and General Bank and forget about MI6. You can live a normal life, play sports, grow up to be a footballer or whatever it is you so desire...or, you can remain with MI6 and continue to work for us," Blunt finished. He watched Alex carefully through his outdated thick-rimmed glasses.

"I could never live a normal life. Not after what I did as part of MI6." Alex stated bluntly.

"I know it's hard, Alex, but this choice is your own." Mrs Jones gave him an understanding glance.

Alex stood perfectly still, a jumble of thoughts whirling through his head all at once. He wished that Blunt would disappear so that Alex could run to the Brookland school and kick his football up against the brick wall. It was too much to think about. Even worse, his final decision came to him all too easily.

"I want to stay a spy." The words came out before Alex could stop them. Blunt seemed emotionless as ever, but Mrs Jones looked as though she'd been anticipating his answer. Alex took advantage of their silence and quickly continued, "But...I'm sick of missing so much school and football practice. I only want to go on missions during my school breaks, and if for some reason I would miss any school, I want someone at MI6 to develop a better reason than 'sicknes'...ask Smithers, he's clever enough. Lastly, and most importantly, I don't want to ever find out that my house has been bugged...that's not fair to Jack or to me."

There was a short pause until Blunt finally broke it.

"Is that everything?" Blunt asked dryly. Alex nodded, "Well then, expect to hear from us sometime around winter break. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Alex."

Alex left the office. After he shut the door, he remained standing in the hallway for a couple of minutes, engrossed in his own thoughts. He didn't notice the door opening behind him and Mrs Jones stepping out into the hallway until she had placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Is everything alright, Alex?" She asked.

"This is going to kill Jack..." Alex didn't bother to turn around and face the deputy head of special operations.

"She'll understand, Alex...it's what you want to do. She just doesn't want to see you get hurt." Alex didn't respond and Mrs Jones withdrew her hand, "I'll walk down to the lobby with you."

Shivering even though the building was heated, Alex pulled on his fall coat as he stepped inside the elevator with Mrs Jones and another MI6 agent. Alex had to give the man credit, he didn't even look twice at the fourteen year old boy standing in the elevator. The lift stopped on the eighth floor and the man nodded goodbye to Mrs Jones as he exited into the hallway. As Alex stood, waiting for the doors to close, a figure strode past the elevator. Alex didn't need a second glance to place a name to the blond hair and pale faced Russian who was deep in conversation with agent Crawley. Alex was tempted to rush out, but the elevator doors were already beginning to close.

"Yes, as I was saying, Blunt will be wanting to debrief you so be sure to set up an appointment..." Alex was barely listening to what Crawley was saying, his eyes were fixed on the all too familiar Russian assassin that was walking, unguarded nevertheless, through the hallways of MI6. Yassen seemed to sense that someone was staring at him because he glanced over his shoulder. He seemed less shocked that Alex, and almost a touch amused. Alex recovered and took a step towards him, only to find that the elevator doors had slammed shut in front of him. He turned to Mrs Jones, expecting an explanation.

"MI6 is always on the lookout for potential talent." Mrs Jones said no more as the elevator opened on the ground floor. As Alex made his way down the steps of the Royal and General Bank, he suddenly felt entirely confident in his decision. He pulled out his mobile and dialed Jack's number, but thought better of it and snapped his phone shut. The cool air was fantastic, perfect for playing football and walking home during the evening.

He realized for the first time since his uncle had died earlier that year, he felt like everything had fallen into place. Jack was still husband-less and Alex was still fatherless. He was still a spy for MI6 and he still hadn't managed to make up all the Biology homework he had missed, but he found assurance in the thought that everything would work out. Jack seemed to share in his confidence. When Alex came home, Jack (apparently forgetting about not wanting to cook) had a delicious portion of grilled vegetables waiting for him on the table. It was the first time he'd seen her cook since Yassen had left. They talked long after they finished dinner, the awkward silences disappearing to where they had almost never existed. They finished the night by watching a comedy film Jack had rented from the library, and for once Alex felt like his life was almost as he wanted it to be.

Not exactly, but definitely close.

---

A/N: Sorry to make you all wait so long, I was in a canoeing accident...lol, just kidding...I was in a canoeing accident but that's not the reason I was so lazy in updating! It's a bit of a bittersweet feeling now that the story is over, but I did want to give it a semi-happy leave-the-door-open-for-speculation ending before I concluded it. I hope the epilogue didn't kill it. I really enjoyed all the helpful, encouraging, and sometimes hilarious reviews I got...it made writing even more entertaining. And on that note I bid you all goodnight! :)