InsaneJournal

It had been snowing all day.  Alan Blunt was relieved to have finally arrived home.  His wife had already turned on the Christmas lights, and he got a warm feeling, knowing she'd be inside waiting for him. He'd always felt bad that they hadn't had any children, but with his profession, having children made him vulnerable.  Having a wife made him vulnerable, too, but there were some sacrifices he wasn't willing to make unless he absolutely had to, and living alone was one of them.

After dinner, they’d retired to the living room to read in front of the fireplace.  His wife had painstakingly decorated this room for Christmas.  She'd strung evergreen boughs and silver ribbon along the fireplace mantel and had jokingly hung two fuzzy red stockings, their names written in glitter along the top. A large, silver Christmas tree adorned with green and red glass balls stood in the window, illuminated by green, blue, red, and yellow light as a wheel turned and changed colors.  It had been her family's tree, and when it had gone out of style and no one wanted it any longer, she'd asked if she could have it.  

Alan’s home was his refuge, and he used his reading to escape into science fiction and fantasy novels.  It was his one and only vice, unless he counted the single glass of red wine he drank every night.  Tonight, though, he was having trouble concentrating on the words in his book.  His disagreement with Mrs. Jones kept replaying in his mind.  She was an excellent agent in every way, but she had developed a weakness: Alex Rider.

Alan Blunt was Chief Executive of MI6 Special Operations for one reason and one reason only: no one else was willing to make the tough decisions to get the job done.  He was a true patriot, and although he loved his wife and he'd miss her if she died, his only loyalty was to his country and its citizens.  He lived to serve them, and he would do whatever it took to keep his country safe.  If that meant sacrificing the life of a fourteen year old boy to save thousands, he would do it willingly and with no regrets.

When he'd first joined MI6, it was his own life he'd offered up, time and time again.  As he was promoted, he'd had to start offering up the lives of others instead of his own, but he'd never had to force any of his agents into a situation that they didn't go into willingly.

Until Alex Rider.

Alan consoled himself by saying that Alex wasn't a true agent.  He was just a boy who happened to be able to do things and go places that an adult agent could not. Like all children his age, Alex only thought of himself. He'd needed some gentle persuasion before choosing to cooperate.  After all, it was what Ian Rider had been training the boy to do - work for MI6.

Using Alex had only been supposed to be a one-time thing.  Mrs. Jones had been furious with him when he'd brought Alex back to help with the Point Blanc investigation.  But using Alex had become an addiction.  Alan couldn't stop, and with each successful mission that Alex completed, Alan dug the hole that much deeper.  So what if Alex was the one who ended up being buried in it?  It wasn't as if Alex had any family left to mourn him if he died.  Alan didn't understand what Mrs. Jones was so upset about.  It must have been that Alex somehow reminded her of her own son, which was unfortunate.  It meant her judgment was impaired when it came to Alex's assignments.  

Taking a sip of his wine, he began to think of ways to keep her out of the loop the next time he needed to use Alex.  The boy was simply too valuable of an asset to no longer take advantage of,  just because Mrs. Jones didn't like the idea of it any longer.