If it's been a while since you've read this story, I suggest you go back and skim over the last chapter, since there are a lot of references to it in this one. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Non-profit; all rights reserved to Mr. Anthony Horowitz.

o0o0o0o

Although the results of Alex Rider's interview had been photocopied and sent off to each individual country's central intelligence agency, all of the ambassadors had gathered once again to go over the results as a whole. Many were thinking of borrowing the boys talents, while others were left scratching their heads at the odd answers Rider had managed to produce. Word had also travelled that Sebastian Emerson, the man who interviewed Alex, had managed to secure an interview with Billie Piper, but was unfortunately hit by a car while crossing the road. This was reportedly because he'd crossed while the light was green, but failed to notice due to his occupation in reading Harry Potter. The first novel, for anyone curious enough to ask – his last words were, "But why J.K Rowling?"

This was of no concern to those gathered here today. Having each read over the results beforehand, they all knew the answers, but a buzz had begun in the room despite this – apparently conflicting opinions had come into play at some point during the waiting period.

Waiting period for what, you may ask? Not what, but who. Two people's presence had been requested on this day – one Alex John Rider and one Alan Sheldon Blunt. According to recent rumors, Sheldon was originally Blunt's first name and Alan his middle, but he'd switched them and tried to cover it up. Tulip Jones had revealed this fact to a source one drunken night last Christmas, but it was old news by now. No one was talking about Sheldon in this room. No, they were talking about Rider.

Alex Rider was currently lying on his stomach with a game controller in hand, skilled fingers slamming down on worn buttons as blaring noises roared from the TV in front of him – and from the boy next to him. Tom, in all his black-haired blue-eyed glory, had stayed over the previous night due to a particularly harsh fight between his parents, who'd gotten so worked up they'd failed to remember to unlock the door for Tom when school ended. Tom, with a heavy sigh, turned around and headed for the tube station, not bothering to look back.

K.O.!

Tom glared at the game controller, chucking it at the smirking blonde next to him in a fit of poor sportsmanship. Alex flipped onto his back to dodge, but the controller still knocked him over the head, which is the scene Jack Starbright walked in on upon her entrance less than a second later.

Alex groaned and rubbed his head while Tom perked up, greeting the redhead with a chipper, "Jack! Something up?"

"You could say that…" The American replied, sending Alex a disturbed look. "There's someone at the door for you, Alex."

Alex opened one eye and peered over at her, his exaggerated actions cut off by the tone of voice she was using. Her eyes conveyed warning.

"Who is it?" He asked, instantly on guard. Tom looked between the two in confusion.

"Tall… dark hair… smells of peppermint–"

Alex pushed himself up off the ground, throwing a distracted "I'll be right back," over his shoulder to his best friend. Tom glanced over at Jack.

"Aren't you going to go with him?" Jack turned to Tom and shrugged, looking suddenly tired.

"He's got it under control."

Alex made his way down the stairs, uncaring as to how he appeared in nothing other than a loose T-shirt and dark blue pajama pants. His eyes sought out the door, where, as expected, Mrs. Jones stood, looking as cold and indifferent as ever. He could smell the peppermint and he wasn't even halfway down the stairs yet.

"I'd almost rather you smoked," he commented as he approached the taller woman, who chose to ignore the comment in favor of offering a benign smile.

"Alex, how are you?"

"Fine, I suppose," he answered, watching her carefully, "what can I do for you?"

It was just like him to cut to the chase – why else would Mrs. Jones be standing on his doorstep? She had better things to do than enjoy a cup of tea with a fourteen year old boy, after all. Better they skip the pleasantries right off the bat.

"You do remember that interview you were subjected to last week?" She asked, and Alex leaned back on his heels. He remembered it all right.

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing at all. However, there's one more thing we'd like you to do – I'll explain on the way." Alex weighed his options briefly – go with her now, or fight it, waste a bunch of energy, and go with her later? If it was another mission, she probably wouldn't be bringing up the interview – and he wouldn't be detecting the faint rush in her dark eyes. He took a deep breath.

"Alright." He moved to step out, but Mrs. Jones didn't move. Giving her a curious look, she cleared her throat.

"Perhaps it would be more appropriate if you donned slippers, Alex?"

"Is that your attempt at sarcasm, Mrs. Jones?"

She remained silent, so Alex turned around and leaped back up the stairs, passing Jack and Tom in the hallway. The two turned to watch him disappear into his bedroom, reappearing a minute later wearing jeans and a dark shirt. He grinned.

"Duty calls."

"Alex, you're not gonna–"

"I shouldn't be gone for more than a few hours. Right, Mrs. Jones?"

"Correct," she called down from the bottom of the stairs. Jack gave him a long, withering look before conceding, placing her hands in the air as a gesture of surrender.

"Why do I bother…" she muttered before turning to Tom. "So… do you like to clean?"

Tom made a face, but the good humor in his eyes made it clear he'd do anything for the housekeeper that treated him just as much the little brother as she did Alex. Alex waved goodbye to them before closing the door and turning towards Mrs. Jones.

"Ten bucks says the car we're about to get into is black."

"Dark gray, Alex. Dark gray."

"It's black." He told her flatly, stepping into the back seat. Silence fell over them as Mrs. Jones sped through the city. Alex scratched his head.

"So, hey, remember that time I tried to kill you?"

"Is that your attempt at small talk, Alex?" Mrs. Jones asked, imitating his earlier quip as she turning around a corner. Alex sighed, looking out the window. After a pause, he began to whistle quietly, quite obviously bored. Eventually Mrs. Jones made a sharper than necessary turn, throwing him against the door and causing his face to collide with the window, cutting him off.

"… You could've at least let me finish the last verse." He said as he massaged his jaw.

"Oh, you were actually trying for a song?" To her credit, she sounded genuinely curious.

"It was Celebration. You know, celebrate good times, come on…"

"Let's get down to business, Alex. After that interview last week, the heads of the leading intelligence agencies around the globe are somewhat curious. To read about you is one thing – even words from your own mouth – but now they want to meet you." If Alex listened carefully, he could detect a slight amount of frustration in her voice. He supposed he was annoyed that they couldn't be satisfied with anything but this.

"Just how long is this drive going to be?" Alex asked.

"Not long. It's just at the Royal and General Bank."

"The Royal and General doesn't exist, Mrs. Jones." Alex informed her seriously. There was a certain thrill that came with being so annoying; how could Alex resist?

"Oh look, another corner," she observed.

"So I'm just gonna shut up now."

o0o0o0o

When the two entered, Alex immediately felt the cool rush of air conditioning hit him. The bank looked as it always did – moderately busy, nothing too rushed, with an undeniably professional air to it. He felt a headache coming on just looking around.

Mrs. Jones led him over to an elevator, popping a peppermint into her mouth just before entering. Alex managed to resist the urge to roll his eyes, but it was struggle for a moment there. They stood with nothing but the soft elevator music occupying the background – that and the heavy breathing of a bald man standing over Alex. He'd attempted to inch away, but then he hit the wall and call him paranoid but it felt as if the man was inching along as well.

When they hit the third floor a couple seconds after entered, Alex jumped out right after the doors opened wide enough for him to do so, followed by the bald man. Mrs. Jones opened her mouth in surprise as though about to say something, but the peppermint slipped from her mouth and hit the ground. She was distracted in looking down at it, and in that timeframe the doors closed between them. Alex watched in resignation as the numbers above him lit up the four, five, six, five, four, and then three again. The doors opened once more, revealing Mrs. Jones looking at him with a thread of impatience in her normally blank expression.

"That was his stop, not ours."

"If you ever told me things ahead of time rather than having me follow you about like a lamb to slaughter, I might not do these things," he returned evenly. They stared each other down for a couple seconds longer until the doors began to close, and Mrs. Jones' arm shot out to block them.

"In you get," she said, and he regretfully stepped forward into the elevator once again. They arrived at the sixth floor shortly after that, and this time both of them exited the cramped space. There was a door at the end of the hallway, and it seemed as though the two were heading for that, so Alex cast a longing look back at the escape route the elevator provided before moving along behind her.

Mrs. Jones gave a short knock before opening the door, smiling at the dozens of eyes that turned to look at the pair. Alex swallowed, just now feeling a little nervous. It had just hit him how important the people in this room were. Their opinion of him could make or break his future. He spotted Ms. Veronica Faring at the back of the room and gave an anxious sort of wave, but she didn't return it. Aw, that's cold.

Rows of seats stretched out in the large room, all bench-like in appearance and slowly climbing higher the farther back they went. There were two chairs at the other end of the room – one was occupied by Alan Blunt, while the other was empty.

"Take a seat, Alex," Blunt said, waving at the chair next to him. Alex hesitated, and then did as he was told.

It was a very big room – there had to be just under a hundred people there, all looking down at him from their aged faces. Alex looked over at Mrs. Jones, who was standing off to the side. Her lips curved into what he believed was her version of a reassuring smile, but to him it just looked like she'd undergone a muscle spasm. Her fine eyebrows didn't even twitch.

"Alex Rider," a man in the center of the front row addressed him. His chocolate eyes shot out to meet the speaker's, but they were closed. He was also smiling. What was with all the fake smiles? Was no one genuinely happy to be there?

"That's me," Alex confirmed uneasily. The man nodded.

"Teenage spy extraordinaire. A true hero. You must really care about you country to do what you have done."

Alex could feel Mrs. Jones' gaze burning into him.

"Yeah. Britain's the best," he responded, swallowing hard. There was a hearty laugh from the man. Um, why are you laughing? He wanted to ask, but that would have been downright stupid.

"Um, why are you laughing?"

Ho, ho, ho, ho – the man stopped, looking over at him.

"Why, you're an interesting boy, Alex. I've just never encountered a person such as you. Tell me, why – of all the things you've experienced in the past couple months – is the thing you're most scared of spiders?"

Alex looked at him blankly, having no clue where he got that from. Then something in his mind clicked, and he remembered his answer in the interview last week. He'd said spiders, hadn't he?

"Oh, right – it's all the legs. I'm not a big fan of the octopuses, either."

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! Alex wanted to know why this man was so intent on impersonating Santa Claus. The guy wasn't even real. However, he waited until his new interrogator had stopped with the plastic laugh.

"Understandable. But they're more scared of you than you are of them, Alex.

"Somehow I doubt that."

Ho, ho, ho, ho! "Tell me about your housekeeper."

Alex looked at him oddly, but complied. "Jack? … Well, she's American… a really awesome cook… and she has bright red hair."

"And you admire her for her cooking?" The man's face lit up in a wide, open mouthed grin. Alex waited for the comedic drums to sound, but after nothing other than silence greeted the joke/question, Alex replied,

"No. I admire her because she puts up with me."

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!

"You're quite the joker, I see. I trust you were joking when you told us upon our questioning of your state of mind that you were 'sane enough'?"

"For sure," he replied, feeling a little more at ease. Upon accepting that he didn't like this man and his weird fake-ass act of good will, he fell into mission mode Alex – serious, but relaxed enough to allow himself a little satire in his answers here and there. The crowd seemed to notice this change in him, and began whispering quietly. They cut off when the man began speaking again.

"Oh, I just realized I had yet to introduce myself! How rude of me. I'm Jared Gains, the spokesman for this afternoon's discussion."

"Ah."

"So. I've been wondering, Alex. Are there any… significant others in your life? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Pain lanced through him at this question as Sabina's face passed through his mind, but he shook his head wholeheartedly.

"None, sir."

"That's strange – you're a strapping young man. I'd think you'd be popular at your school."

"I used to be," he muttered. Unfortunately, Jared caught this.

"Really? What changed?"

"Er – after my uncle died…" He got off at this with an understanding nod. Suddenly someone appeared next to Jared, leaning towards him and whispering in his ear. Jared stood up, looking excited.

"Oh, well do we ever have something to cheer you up! Alex Rider, let me offer you a gesture of our thanks."

A new woman came forward, holding a small plate and a fork. On the plate was a slice of warm apple pie. Alex stared at it like it was roadkill.

"The love of your life!" Jared enthused, as if the pastry was a check for a million dollars rather than a piece of pie. Is this a joke? Alex wondered as the pie was placed in front of him on the table. Blunt looked faintly unsettled from his place at Alex's side. Alex looked up.

"Thanks…" All anger, fear, pain – all those times I nearly died – hell, even the bullet to the heart. It was all worth it for this microwaved piece of store-bought pie. How did you know? It wasn't even a very big piece, either.

"You're very welcome, Alex. I'm afraid we couldn't secure the Yorkshire puddings or the pineapple," what the hell? "–but no matter – back to the subject at hand! It's my understanding that the South of France is a rather nice place to visit in the summertime. When did you go to France, Alex?"

"Last summer," he replied, "my friend invited me out to stay at her vacation home there."

"Her?" The man inquired, "I thought there were no significant others?"

"There aren't," he confirmed calmly.

"This girl wouldn't happen to be Sabina Pleasure, would it?" Of course they know, Alex thought with an inward sigh, how would they not?

"Yes."

"Ah. You met at Wimbledon, correct? Though I believe she moved to America. Shame about that, I've heard she's apparently quite fetching." Strapping and fetching? Don't strain yourself, Mr. Gains.

"You heard right," he humored the man, but you'd have to know Alex quite well to be able to catch the dryness in his reply. Mrs. Jones looked at him sharply, while Alan Blunt glanced over at the large clock on the wall.

"Alan Blunt," Jared finally addressed the head of MI6, and Blunt's head snapped down to look at him, wincing slightly at the quick motion. Alex almost laughed.

"So, approximately how many… favors has Alex done you?" He was referring to the missions, of course. Blunt cleared his throat and answered honestly,

"Technically, five."

"Technically? Oh, you're referring to the work Alex has done for the ASIS and the CIA, I'm assuming?"

"That's correct." Blunt's drab, lifeless expression had taken on a slightly more purposeful tone to it – it was amazing that Alex could recognize even that much emotion in the man, though.

"So there have been seven cases this fourteen year old boy has managed to save the world's skin, then."

Murmurs erupted around the room as the ambassadors peeked over to where the seemingly harmless fair-haired teen sat, looking faintly uncomfortable. He seemed so ordinary – no massive brawn on him, not particularly tall or short, no fancy manner of dressing – it was eerie, looking at the kid and knowing that he'd done things none of them could've even imagined about pulling off.

"I suppose."

"Blunt, that's hardly a solid confirmation."

"Then, yes." Alex looked over at Blunt, but his analogy was interrupted by the voice of Jared once again.

"So, Alex: do you like doing what you do?"

He froze. So that's what they were working towards this whole time – the ulterior motive to all the friendly inquiries, and even the piece of pie sitting nearly untouched in front of him. He wasn't about to eat in front of them; especially not something they'd given to him. This was the big question. If he said yes, he thought, then they would continue sending him on missions with a clear conscience. If he said no – what if he said no?

Feeling bold, he sat a little straighter, looking Jared right in the eye when he said,

"No."

This time the room was loud with the chorus of speech, everyone talking over one another. Jared slowly held up a hand and everyone fell silent. His eyes had opened to reveal sharp blue depths.

"Then why do you do it?"

Alex caught in the corner of his eye that Blunt's hand was clenched around the arm of his chair, knuckles white with exertion. He paused, mulling over his answer in his head before giving a deep, inward sigh. This is for you, dad. You too, Ian, you aristocratic bastard.

"It's like you said – I just really love my country. Someone's got to do it, right?"

Awestruck eyes gazed down at him – that a teenager would be willing to sacrifice so much just out of cheer patriotism was an incredible thing. Jared slowly smiled.

"And your work for the Australian and American intelligence agencies?"

Alex rested his elbows on the table in front of him and leaned forward, letting his chin fall onto his clasped hands. He smiled back at Jared, but it wasn't nervous or shaky – it was almost a smirk.

"If the world needs help, who am I to say no?"

Silence fell over the crowd heavily at this reasoning – he'd rendered them speechless. Fourteen years old and already an enigma, this operative was going to go far.

"In that case," Jared drawled, sitting back in his chair languidly, "you wouldn't mind if we made you an official MI6 agent, then? Other countries may call in for help, but if what you said is true, then it's not a problem, correct?"

He was resigned. Alex was goddamn good at what he did, no one could deny it – and it was a job he'd been trained to do his whole life, unknowingly or otherwise. No one else could do it. Why fight it anymore?

"It's not a problem."

The crowd resumed their whispering, and Jared spoke up once again, easily drowning them out in his booming voice. "Brilliant. Being an official operative means you will also be paid – both for future missions and the seven you have already covertly accomplished."

"Sounds good to me."

"You'll have to return back here in a week when preparations are finished and all the necessary documents have been prepared. I'll leave the rest to Alan Blunt – thank you so much for coming in today, Alex."

"Of course. Thanks for the pie."

Everyone looked at the slice of apple pie still sitting on its plate, significantly cooler than it'd been when it was set down in front of him. He hadn't taken a single bite. Jared waved it off.

"Until next time, Agent Rider." The title rang out through his head. A part of him decided it shouldn't have felt so… right. Another part couldn't help lean back and take the title like he'd never been called anything otherwise. Outwardly, the only thing Alex did was nod.

The man saluted him and a couple people gasped before Jared Gains left the room and slowly the crowd began to file out as well, all sending looks over at Alex Rider, teenage spy extraordinaire. After a few minutes, the only people who remained were Alan Blunt, Mrs. Jones and Alex himself. Mrs. Jones walked forward just as Blunt fixed his dark, narrow eyes on Alex.

"You did… well."

It was the first time Blunt had ever praised him for anything – and compared to the other things he'd done for the man, this had been a cakewalk. His jaw dropped.

"Seriously? This is what you're going to congratulate me for? If I was any less of a man I might just cry for you, Blunt."

Blunt had nothing to say to that, but Mrs. Jones coughed to cover a laugh that nearly escaped her. That would have been interesting – when had this woman ever expressively made any kind of gesture to indicate how she really felt – never mind a positive one? Maybe they were right – maybe he was amazing. He certainly didn't feel amazing. All he really felt at the moment was… kind of hungry.

Mrs. Jones spoke up from where she now stood next to him. "Alan is right, Alex. That was very mature of you."

"Not you too," he complained. The three began to move over to the door.

"So did you mean it? You'd give up your normal life for the better of the country?" She asked him when they were back in the elevator, Blunt having broken away from them upon exited the room without another word. Alex gave her an incredulous look.

"Are you kidding? Hell no. I'm not doing it for you, or Britain. I'm doing it for my dad."

A flash of surprise entered the woman's eyes, followed by a deep-rooted respect. Alex looked down at the ground.

"I'd like to say you're a lot like him," Mrs. Jones started wistfully, as they exited the elevator and walked towards the doors, "but you're really not. The two of you are infinitely different."

Alex stayed quiet – any information he could get about either of his parents was something he'd be willing to travel through a third world country with the man who killed them for. Oh wait – he'd already done that, hadn't he?

"I only met Helen a couple times, but I'd say you take after her more. She was… sarcastic."

A grin spread across his face.

"She constantly came in on her own to yell at Blunt when John came back injured from missions."

A surge of affection for his mother hit him.

"She was kidnapped once, to get at your father, but she kept her cool and I was told she nearly made one of the men guarding her cry using nothing more than her own sharp tongue."

He laughed out loud. Mrs. Jones fell silent. They drove back to his house without any more words up until to point where Mrs. Jones pulled up on the side of the street, and Alex moved to get out of the car.

"… But I always admired her, even though I was just an intern at the time."

The words were spoken softly, stopping Alex in his tracks. He turned to look at her, but she was still facing forward.

It had been her own small way of awarding Alex for his selfless choices in the one way she could – by telling him about his parents, who he knew barely anything about. John had had such a reputation that Alex probably had him depicted as that of a hardened hero when in reality, the man was somewhat of a princess next to his mother. Perhaps that was why they'd been so madly in love; she'd once overheard John telling a coworker how Helen could do terrifying things with a frying pan.

Despite being a superspy with a license to kill and a success rate of one-hundred percent 'till the day he died… it was a surreal thought that Helen had worn the pants in the relationship. Though by the way he'd spoken of her – even just in the few times Mrs. Jones had conversed with him about anything other than their primary objective at the time – it wasn't difficult to see she had him wrapped around her finger. The feeling was mutual, if you considered how much shit Helen put up with just to stay by his side – it had been truly tragic to hear that such a young and beautiful family had been torn apart.

Mrs. Jones finally turned her gaze onto the blonde, eyes reflecting something between sadness and affection. "Good bye, Alex. See you next week."

He hesitated, but relented in the end.

"Good bye, Mrs. Jones." And then the predictably black car sped off down the road with Alex walking up the pathway to his house, opening the door and calling in loudly,

"I'm back."

Jack and Tom both appeared around the corner, Tom having donned the apron Jack had got for him last Christmas. It had been mostly a joke, which is why the thing was pink and frilly. Tom didn't seem embarrassed by this in the least, however, running forward to meet his best friend with a smile. Alex slipped off his shoes and walked forward to meet the both of them.

"Welcome home, Alex," Jack offered, the eagerness to know what happened shining clear on her face.

"So, so? What'd you do? What'd they say? What was it this time, Alex?"

Alex looked at his two best friends apologetically, but there was no regret in his voice when he announced,

"I'm totally and irreversibly screwed."

o0o0o0o

What out of character Mrs. Jones? *cough cough* What can I say? I like her.

So, the one-shot becomes a two-shot… well, it happens. I got so many requests for a follow up that I just couldn't find it in my heart to refuse. So here it is; hope it followed the last one alright. It's really different, rereading it now – the first chapter was mostly humor, and this one had a sappy ending… but I'd really like to see more back story on Helen and John in future books. I always love hearing about the protagonist's parents.

Also, Billie Piper! She's British! See? I can do British. Lolwhut I do not just know her from that one episode of Doctor Who I watched last summer who told you that.

"'And you admire her for her cooking?' The man's face lit up in a wide, open mouthed grin. Alex waited for the comedic drums to sound, but after nothing other than silence greeted the joke/question, Alex replied." Think imhappyplz (the deviantart smiley). That's what I imagined writing it. BD

Please review, I'm just dying to hear what you guys think :) Thanks for chapter one's feedback, as well! Without that, this would have never been written, I can promise you that. Please keep up the support!