AN: So I caved and wrote this oneshot, despite the fact that I'm supposed to be revising. Everyone's got to have breaks though, right? This is written for the week one prompt of SpyFest 2015. Hopefully there aren't too many spelling errors, but I can't promise anything. I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review!

Life in the Rider household is strange.

Alex begins to realise that at a very young age as he waits at the school gates for someone to come and collect him. All the other children have parents, mothers and fathers, who wave brightly and ask them about their day, taking them to shiny cars to drive home. Meanwhile, Alex waits and waits and sometimes Ian will remember to pick him up in his fancy work car, but sometimes he doesn't and Alex will shoulder his bag and hesitantly start the journey home, thankful that's been along this route enough times to know the way.

It's happened before, so it's not anything new, but its only today that Alex starts to wonder why it is that his family isn't like all of his friends. He thinks about it all of the way home, watching warily for anyone who looks like they might try to stop him. It's alright, usually, because he lives in a good neighbourhood and the streets are usually safe at this time of day, even for a six year old like him. Still, his legs are tired by the time he turns on to his street and he's glad to get home.

He finally reaches his door and has to stand on a pot plant to reach the doorbell because he's short and he hasn't got a key. Then he waits patiently, twisting his rucksack strap and beginning to wonder what homework he should start first.

There's a thumping on the stairs and the door finally opens and Ian Rider looks down at him, gaping.

"Shit," he says, "Alex, I forgot."

And Alex ducks his head, says it's okay and steps around him into the house trying not to let the words hurt. I forgot. It's not like saying 'I forgot you' or anything. His father's brother had probably just been in his study and lost track of the time. Just like last week.

"Ian," he says suddenly, stopping in the hallway, his bag dragging on the carpet behind him. "Why don't I have a mummy or daddy?"

Ian gives him a long, hard look, his brow creasing together. Finally he says, "Because they're dead. You know that, Alex. Why do you ask?"

Alex scuffs the carpet with his foot.

"I know they're dead. I just wanted to know why. Jonah doesn't have a mummy and that's because she was sick and she didn't get better. Is that what happened to my parents?"

"No. Your parents died on a plane. It was an accident - there was no reason for it."

When Alex is older he'll remember this moment. Ian is still staring at him, an odd twist to his lips, his eyes dark and stormy. He doesn't seem to regret talking about his brother's death in such a cold tone, or not comforting his nephew. Instead he clicks his tongue.

"I have to work now. Come and find me when you need to be driven to school."

Alex nods mutely, still not quite able to make sense of the conversation he's just had because as far as he's concerned, there's a reason for everything. People don't just die. But he can't call Ian a liar, and anyway, the man has already disappeared, the stairs creaking as he returns to his office.

Alex wonders why his uncle is so strange when it comes to talking about his parent's death.

Years later, as he stares into Ash's eyes after finding out the truth, he understands.

But for now he traipses into the kitchen, sets his bag on table and pulls out his homework. He's not allowed to play games or talk to friends until he's finished so he might as well start now. If he sits facing the wall where all the photos are hung, then that's not deliberate. If he stops working just so he can stare at the photo of John and Helen Rider on their wedding day, then maybe he does feel something he comes to identify as longing.

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to have known them. What would it be like to walk to the school gates and have someone waving just for him?

But the feeling soon passes and there was no one to see him, so he returns to his work and no one is any the wiser.

...

A few months later he is back at school and his English teacher is handing out their homework. In that time Alex has learnt that grown up boys call their parents mum and dad and that while boys should never ever hit girls, there's no rule that says that they can't hit him.

Mrs. Blanchard smiles at him as she passes, pausing for just a moment to give him is work back.

"It's very good, Alex," she says to him, "but the assignment was to write about one of your recent weekends, not to write a story. Could you focus more next time, please?"

She moves on and Alex stares at the piece of paper that is covered in his scrawling handwriting. He had spent hours on it but the red F stands out clearly. His heart sinks because Ian will not be happy. But he's also confused because he did pay attention! He had written about the time he and Ian had gone to Spain, exploring the town and ducking into random shops and cafes at random. Ian had even challenged Alex to speak in Spanish for the whole trip, and he had - even if his sentences were slow and halting.

So he stays behind after the lesson finishes and catches Mrs. Blanchard's attention.

"Yes, Alex?" she asks.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," he starts because he's learnt from Ian to be especially polite when interrupting adults from their work, "but you gave me an F."

"I'm sorry Alex. If it was a creative writing assignment, you'd have got an A. But it wasn't and so I had to mark you down." Mrs. Blanchard softens slightly, looking at his downcast face. "You just have to remember to stick to the assignment next time sweetie, okay?"

"But I did!" He protests. "We went to Spain last month! Ask Ian, he can tell you."

"And who's Ian?"

"My father's brother," Alex explains as if that makes it obvious, which it really should because that is how Ian has always described himself.

Mrs. Blanchard looks confused. "Do you mean your uncle? Alex, we learnt about families at the beginning of the year, you should know that."

"He doesn't like that word. He told me I shouldn't call him that - but please miss, you have to believe me, I'm telling the truth!"

"Okay, Alex. I'll ring him tonight."

Alex smiles and thanks her because he knows that Ian will back him up, but then he has to run to his next lesson because it's maths and he's late.

That conversation is the first clue he has that his weekend trips to far away countries may not be normal to other people. He's always assumed that it was something everyone did, because why wouldn't they? Ian certainly never acted like he was strange. Sometimes he would challenge Alex to do stuff, like talk to someone in the market in Polish and give them a letter, or to pretend that he had never met Ian before when they split up for several hours in the market.

Sometimes it's not as much fun as it seems because as much as he likes these games, Alex gets tired and he's not very good in some of the languages that Ian demands he learns, and everything stops making sense and he starts to get scared.

But at times like that Ian always appears and picks him up in his strong arms and takes him back to wherever they are staying, and that frightened feeling in Alex's stomach goes away.

When he gets home that day, he tells Ian what happened with Mrs. Blanchard and then goes to the living room and starts to play on the PS2. Halfway through a race, he pauses the game and walks to one of the table in the room that has several photo frames lined up next to each other, each one showing a different snapshot of Alex and Ian's lives. There's one from when they went skiing in Austria, and another from when they went to Finland and swam in icy lakes. There's even one from when Alex was about four on a trip that he can't quite remember anymore and he is on Ian's shoulders as they stand in front of Eiffel Tower.

With one hand he reaches out to touch one of the pictures.

He thinks about Mrs. Blanchard's reaction to his homework again. He starts to think that maybe having an uncle who announces on a Friday night that they're going to Greece for a weekend, and that they cannot speak English while they are there, is maybe not normal.

And once he questions that, he starts to question everything else, like how Ian's office is always locked and how he's been told that he's never ever allowed to go in there. Or how he can speak bits of seven languages and why Ian sometimes has strange bruises on his arms and chests, despite working in an office. Maybe having to cook his own food isn't something that every six year old does, or going for long walks and camping overnight with nothing more than one bag of food and no tent.

Alex shakes his head. Maybe Mrs. Blanchard just didn't think he could speak Spanish. Maybe that's why she thought it wasn't real.

When he goes to school the next day, Mrs. Blanchard apologises three times and gives him an A. He says 'thank you' and 'it's fine' and 'don't worry about it' and focuses on listening to what she's teaching, trying hard to pretend that he can't see her watching him curiously.

...

It's a few weeks before Christmas, not too long after the homework incident - which Mrs. Blanchard is still apologising for - when Alex goes to the office to ask Ian to drive him to school. He knocks on the door and there's no answer.

Frowning, Alex tries again because Ian is never not working, but there is no tell tale squeak of the chair, or the sound of floorboards creaking. He waits hesitantly, just to make sure and then wanders downstairs, not really sure what to do.

Ian's room is empty, as is the bathroom, and he definitely isn't in the kitchen or he living room because Alex has already been in those rooms this morning. It's as if Ian has simply disappeared and he doesn't know what to think. But it's getting late and Ian wouldn't like it if he missed school, wherever he was. Alex picks up the spare key from the jar under the sink in the kitchen and makes his own way out of the house and walks to school by himself.

Ian isn't there when school finishes either. Alex hangs behind all of his class mates, scanning the playground but his eyes are not deceiving him and anyway, he's far too used to this by now. At least he has the spare key - he'll be able to get back into the house.

Then something strange happens.

Someone calls his name. It's not a voice he's heard before, and whoever it is sounds American. He looks up and sees a young woman with red hair waving at him enthusiastically.

Hesitantly, he waves back and walks over.

"Hi, Alex," the woman says, her eyes twinkling and her smile revealing her whiter-than-white teeth. "You are Alex, right? I don't want to take the wrong kid home and get done for kidnapping or anything- oh, let me take your bag."

She reaches for him but he takes a step back, just out of her reach.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are," he says politely.

"Jack Starbright, pleased to meet you. I'm your new housekeeper."

She looks at him expectantly, holding out her hand, but Alex doesn't take it. He frowns.

"We don't have a housekeeper."

"Well you do now," says Jack. Her smile is starting to fade. He wonders why she has a boy name. "Look, kid, I got a call from your uncle last night. He's had to leave the country for a few weeks and he needed someone to look after the house and take care of you. I'm only going to be here until he comes back."

"Why should I believe you?"

Jack runs a hand through her hair.

"Jeez! Ian said you might be hostile, but - he gave me this, okay? Does this help you?"

She hands him a ring. It's a slim gold band with a small jewel set in the top. The pale winter sun glints on its many edges. He closes his hand around it. Once, Ian had told him that he shouldn't trust strangers, but sometimes, Ian might not be there to introduce him to someone important, and so they should have a signal to show that a person was trustworthy. Alex knew that his uncle must trust this woman because this was Helen Rider's wedding ring.

He closed his hand around it, then shoved it into his pocket.

"Okay. Hello, Jack. I'm Alex Rider." He holds out his hand and she shakes it with a raised eyebrow as if six year olds shaking hands was something strange. Then they walk home together. By the time they reach the front door, Alex has found out that she used to be a student but she needed money, that she couldn't cook much but at least the house would be clean, and that Ian hadn't given her much notice and so she wasn't sure where anything was and she hadn't packed many clothes and she didn't even know where she was supposed to sleep.

Alex shows her around the house, telling her that she can use the guest room. He says that he doesn't mind if she can't cook because he can look after himself. He takes himself to bed at 7:00 PM but before he goes upstairs, he goes into the living room and tugs on Jack's arm. She turns the TV volume down and looks at him warily.

"When is Ian going to come home?" he asks quietly.

"Oh sweetie, I don't know. It's probably only going to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most. You'll be alright, won't you?"

Alex nods, says goodnight and goes to bed.

But one week later Ian still hasn't come home. Jack is far more comfortable in the house now and quite often lounges around in her pyjamas. She refuses to let Alex cook, despite only knowing how to make three meals. She gets cross when Alex tries to tell her that she's doing it wrong. It's nice, actually. He finds out that she's really funny and silly and there's always someone waiting for him at the end of school now. When he walks to the gates he can almost pretend that she's his mum and that he has a proper family.

Two weeks pass meaning there's not much time until Christmas.

There's still no word from Ian and Alex starts to worry. He's never been away for this long before and it's such a break from the usual routine that he starts to think that maybe he's never coming back, just like Mary's dad left and never came back. He tells Jack this and she stares at him for a moment before pulling him in for a hug and telling him that Ian is most definitely coming back soon.

Alex freezes. No one's ever hugged him properly before. Sure, Ian will sometimes carry him, or pat his shoulder, but nothing this intimate - or quite this comforting.

After a moment, he relaxes into Jack's hold and wonders if this actually is what having a mother feels like.

It's three days before Christmas. Even Jack is getting worried now. Alex wonders if she has anybody she is supposed to meet on Christmas day, and if he will get any presents. Without the only person who's ever given him presents around, he doubts it. Life is beginning to feel less pretend-normal and more scary. He cries himself to sleep and wonders what will happen if he has to stay with Jack forever.

It is Christmas day. Alex wakes up early but can't find the energy to get out of bed. There are no decorations around the house because Jack had been to scared to go in the attic and find them. This is probably going to be the worst Christmas he's ever had. It's even raining, and he can hear the gentle pitter-patter on the window from his bed.

He gets up eventually because he's hungry. He pads downstairs, wanders into the kitchen, pours himself a bowl of cereal and goes into the living room to eat in front of the TV.

Except, he never gets that far.

There, lying on separate sofas, are both Ian and Jack. They are fast asleep, still in their clothes, shoes on their feet. There is a tiny plant that Alex doesn't recognise on the table and it has a tiny star sitting on top of it. Surrounding it are about five or six presents wrapped in plain brown paper.

"Ian!"

Alex runs forwards, accidentally splashing milk onto the carpet. He remembers at the last moment to put the bowl on a flat surface and then he attacks his uncle, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing.

Ian starts to stir and he squints at his nephew, a slow smile starting to stretch across his cheeks. Across from him, Jack sits up, yawning.

"Morning, Alex," she murmurs, rubbing her eyes.

"Ian," Alex cries again, not quite able to believe what is happening. "When did you get home?"

Ian laughs at his excitement and ruffles his hair.

"Late last night, kiddo. I didn't even know I was coming home until yesterday and I thought you might like a surprise."

"I helped him wrap the presents," Jack adds as if that is very important.

Alex looks between them and his cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling so widely. Then he grabs one of the presents from the pile and looks at Ian with a hopeful expression.

"Oh, go on," Ian says and Alex doesn't need to be told twice before he's ripping off the paper.

He gets a pocket knife, a book on survival skills, some money and a chocolate orange. The last two presents are for Jack and she is delighted, even if her gifts are only a pair of slippers and a small bottle of something she calls perfume.

Later that day, the watch the Queen's speech together, all of them with a mug of hot chocolate and the plates from the microwave roast dinners they'd just eaten. Alex is sat next to Ian, his legs dangling over the edge of the sofa and not quite reaching the floor. Ian is relaxed, his feet up on the table while Jack is sprawled on the carpet, grinning in delight as she tells them that her friends are not going to believe she's seen this.

It's a beautiful day, although Alex supposes it would have been better if Ian wasn't walking with a severe limp or if they'd had proper food. Normal people, like Alex's friends at school, probably had a more traditional Christmas with home cooked food and decorations and lots of presents. But Alex has finally realised that his little family isn't normal, and for the first time he finds that he doesn't particularly care - especially when Ian announces that he's hired Jack full time in case he has to go away again. Alex hugs her and says he's glad and in return she picks him up, spinning him around.

"You're going to have to stop telling me how to cook," she warns but he just laughs.

Yes, life in the Rider household is strange - but Alex wouldn't have it any other way.