Delusion of Happiness
Summary: Alex gets to see what his life would be like if his parents lived and he was never a spy. Nothing is quite what it should be.
"Isn't it funny how things can blow up in your face so suddenly? You may think you have the upper hand, but really, you have no idea what is in store for you." The man whispered, all the control in his voice was lost. Alex stood tall and eyed the man, slightly confused, but confident nonetheless. The man must have gone mad from utter defeat. Alex had ruined his plans and MI6 was on their way. He could hear the distance sound of sirens racing in his direction.
"I think I should be the one telling you that." Alex told him, aiming his weapon
"So it may seem." He laughed. Alex stared. What could he be planning? Alex scanned the man and his surroundings. He stood in a corner with nothing nearby he could use to to attack Alex with. He already knew that Alex was physically stronger than him. The swelling welt on his face proved it after a round of hand-to-hand combat.
"Whatever you say." Alex commented off offhandedly. The man was going mental. Alex had ruined his intricate plans for wealth that would be gained through the expense of people's lives. Those plans were the man's everything. Now that they were gone, he had nothing. He was ruined.
"Exactly." The man said, and Alex noticed the wild, beyond psychotic gleam in his eyes. Slowly, the man started unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time.
Alex eyed him.
"I may have failed, dear boy..." He took off his shirt and Alex's eyes widened in a sudden horror.
"But at least I am taking you with me."
Alex swore and sprinted as fast as his legs could take him.
There were explosives attached to the man. The amount of dynamite strapped to him could bring down the building in a raging inferno of flames and destroy everything in it.
Alex heard the sirens and the roar of distant engines racing toward him. He heard the manic laughter, followed by the farewell. He heard the small click that would end it all. He felt the excruciating heat of the air lick at his skin, and the blast that swept him off his feet.
His entire body crashed into something hard.
Then he could hear no more.
It was dark.
"Aleex!"
He rolled over and groaned.
"Alex..."
His head was pounding.
"Aaaaal-eeeex!"
His muscles ached.
"Alalalalalalalex!"
He felt something tapping innocently on his head.
"Move, let me try."
Blankets were harshly removed from his face and body, making Alex wince at the sudden cold and brightness. The pillow he was resting his head on was whipped out from under him, then smacked his face.
"Oof." said Alex. He heard a young giggle.
He sat up and opened his eyes. Before he could see where he was, the pillow came and hit him in the face again.
"Oof." repeated Alex.
"Get up. We've got to drop off Jacob at Crawley's. Or did you forget?"
Alex turned at looked at the speaker while rubbing his face.
A girl, about fourteen or fifteen years old. Red hair, dark eyes. He had never seen the girl in his life, but he realized that she had a strange resemblance to someone he knew.
"Where's Jack?" Alex asked suddenly, looking for his American caretaker.
"What are you talking about? C'mon, I'm going to be late. You're going to be late too." She said, dropping the pillow on the bed. She walked out of the room, giving Alex some privacy.
Alex noticed a little boy running around in circles, making noises that of an airplane. This must have been the person who was tapping his face. He had fair hair and large eyes and was the spitting image of a young Alex. He could not have been older than three or four years.
"Who are you?" Alex asked, eying the little boy.
He stopped for a second and looked at Alex with his big, gleaming eyes. "Airplane!" He said, and continued to run around. Alex sat on the comfortable bed, suspiciously staring at the little boy and everything else in the room.
"Jacob, get out. Let your brother dress." Alex heard from the hall.
Brother? He had a strange feeling about this.
"Okie-dokie!" Jacob chirped, and 'flew' out of the room with his arms straight out, continuing to make airplane sounds.
Alex slowly got up from his bed, very suspicious and conscious of everything. He scanned the room. It was definitely his room. The window and closet were where they always have been. The tree outside of his window that had always been there was still there.
Everything else was different. The walls were painted. There were posters of people and bands he had never cared for. There was a desk he had never seen in his life. He walked over to it, curious.
On the desk was a laptop he never touched, and a pile of papers with his handwriting scribbled all over which he couldn't recall writing. There were university brochures flowing from his desk. A new, unscratched mobile phone was shining next to a worn out wallet lying on the desk and picked it up, then looked through it.
He saw his school identification card. According to his card, which was his card because it had his name and photo on it, he was in his final year at Brookland. It must have been a mistake.
He had a driver's license. But how could that be, last he knew he was only fourteen? His mind told him to run, this was a trap, he was in danger. Even though Alex knew this was probably just one big, elaborate set up, his curiosity made him stay.
There were several other cards, but what Alex was interested in was the photos. There were several picture tucked into a pocket of the wallet, the corners of each of them were bent and slightly worn. Alex examined each one of them.
There was a picture of... a tall Tom? In a football uniform, with Alex, wearing the same uniform. They were both smiling. Alex looked a bit different too. Another picture. A smiling Alex, the red-head who woke him up, making a funny face, and the little boy named Jacob, staring at his hands.
Alex yelped out in surprise when he saw the next picture. It was a picture of his smiling self, one arm draped over a very pretty girl who was kissing his cheek. Alex was clueless as to who she was.
Now this was strange. Who ever set this trap up must have had some serious issues with Alex. Who would photoshop pictures and put them in his room? Who would copy his handwriting? Or hire actors and put them in his house?
The next picture nearly caused Alex's heart to stop beating.
He recognized the man immediately. John Rider. He looked very much like Alex, the only exception was the age difference. The man was old, perhaps in his late forties. His hair was starting to gray. He had a stoic expression that Alex had always thought he would have. The other person in the picture was a woman. Helen Rider, Alex assumed. She had dark hair and she was beaming. Alex, the little boy and the red-headed girl were in there too.
The picture looked fairly recent.
Maybe it wasn't a trap. Perhaps he had blanked out for a moment, or rather, several years and this was his life.
No. That was ridiculous. That wouldn't make sense. Then again, why would he have a picture of his parents? Where was Jack? Why did the red-head girl live with him, and why was it that he had a brother?
Before he could elaborate on his thoughts, the red-headed girl burst into his room.
"Hurry up! We got to go, and you've got to drive!" She exclaimed.
For the first time in his life, Alex did not have the slightest idea of what to do. Should he stay and find out what to do, or just go along with it? Curiosity would get the best of him.
Alex reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the pictures and looked at the girl.
He had a bad feeling about it, but be would go along with this. Just to see what would happen.
"Alright." Alex said, unsure of his own voice. "I'll be ready in a second."