Paradox

By WarriorLoverInc

Chapter 1: Pyre

Fingers of burning flame licked hungrily at the house, cutting through the pitch-dark night like a sword through soft flesh. Sirens wailed in a chorus of screams and mingled with the shouts of firemen and neighbors from the surrounding houses.

Nothing had warned of this tragedy, there had been no omen, no sixth sense alert; the smoke detectors had not even gone off.

Jack Starbright could not be consoled. She was surrounded by worried people, clutching a blanket around her shuddering frame, sitting across the street on someone's front lawn, watching her house burn. Tears cascaded down her face as she comprehended the words of the firemen.

"I'm sorry," he'd said, "we looked, but most of the house was too far gone. We couldn't find anyone.

"I hate to tell you this ma'am," he'd scratched his sooty head uncomfortably, "but no-one could have survived that. Your charge is dead."

Your charge is dead.

Alex Rider was dead.

Jack screamed her agony to the sky to the shock of those around her. She sobbed uncontrollably, of all the ways she feared she'd lose Alex, random arson had never been one of them. Shedding the blanket she dashed across the street and tried to run up to the house. Somewhere in her mind she had the idea that he'd survived, that he'd pulled some miraculous escape like he always seemed to do.

The skin on her face instantly began to peel the moment she got close to the roaring flames that had consumed the house. Her tears sizzled out of existence from the heat and she could clearly smell burning wood. Strong arms wrestled her flailing limbs behind her back and dragged her away from the flaming wreck.

"No!" she screamed, struggling with all her might. She had to reach him! Alex might still be there! "No! I have to go! I need to help him. He may still be there." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. Even as she uttered the words she knew it was impossible. The firemen were right; no-one could have survived the fire she was staring into now. She had felt the massive amounts of heat and the clouds of choking smoke.

A fresh wave of wails broke out and the person who had stopped Jack from running to her death handed her to the worried neighbors who had watched her actions in shock.

Uncaringly, the consuming blaze continued to burn Jack's world to the ground as the sirens faded into the night.

…

Alan Blunt's cold eyes examined the report before him with disinterest. Placing the paper on his desk, he faced Tulip Jones, his second in command.

"Such a shame, he was a good agent too."

"Alan!" she exclaimed in shock "Alex died!" Mrs. Jones couldn't believe her superior would openly show such indifference to the terrible death of the boy he'd so often used.

"I'm quite aware of that," Blunt said, filing the report away, "but I have more important things to do than dawdle over some boy's death."

With a certain finality, Blunt signed in red ink at the bottom of Alex Rider's file.

…

Ben Daniels had never been the emotional type. With his work, it wasn't often he made friends. In fact, he probably made more enemies. But right now, he was experiencing heartrending agony like he'd never before.

Alex Rider was dead. That's all there is to it.

The notification had come via e-mail from his employers, Military Intelligence Department Six. Alex had perished in the blaze resulting from random arson. A culprit had yet to be found.

Ben hadn't known the boy for long, nor had he known much about him. But what he did made him proud to call the kid his friend. Alex had a way of attracting trouble yet the luck of the devil to survive in one piece. He'd first met him in Brecon Beacons, the SAS training camp in Wales. Ben still didn't know why he was there. A few months later, he and Alex had foiled a scheme by the Snakehead to drown some celebrities and half of Australia.

That had been the last time he'd saw him.

Ben's head hung as he opened the door to the flat he shared with the rest of K-Unit. Jovial sounds reached his ears and only served to worsen his mood.

"Fox!" Eagle cheerily scurried out of the kitchen and caught the depressed man in a bone-crushing hug. "Why the long face?"

Ben held Eagle's eyes. "He's dead," he whispered, the situation finally catching up with him. "He's dead. Oh, God, he's really dead…"

Eagle watched his roommate anxiously as he collapsed onto a couch, head in hands.

"Guys!" he called, eyes never leaving the other man. "Something's up with Fox!"

The laughter and sounds of eating in the kitchen stopped, seconds later Wolf and Snake appeared around the corner.

"What's wrong with him?" Wolf asked, taking in the man on the couch.

"Fox," Snake knelt next to his teammate and gently removed his hands from his face, revealing his tearful and stricken expression. "Fox," he said gently, "who died?"

The man buried his face again and gulped for air. "Alex," he muttered into his arms.

"Who's Alex?"

Ben glanced up at Wolf. "That's right," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, "you wouldn't know…

"Cub," he finally spoke up, "Cub is dead."

…

Alex didn't know where he was. One moment he'd been attempting to break down the flaming door of his room as a blazing section of roof had crashed down onto him, and the next he was here. Wherever here was.

Like a sleepy baby, Alex summoned the strength to pry his eyelids open. He was so tired, his limbs felt like lead and he was sure he couldn't move no matter if he wanted to or not. His pupils quickly contracted as the bright light of the outside world met his eyes.

Everything was so bright and white!

With some difficulty, he rolled his head to the right. A curved, blank, and of course white wall entered his line of vision. It wound all the way around Alex and vaguely reminded him of the inside of the Megatron in St. Dominic's Hospital.

His reminiscing was interrupted however when a loud whirring sound reached his ears. The round wall slowly pulled away from him and even brighter light assaulted his eyes.

"He made it!"

"Excellent!"

"Quick! The plans!"

"Right sir! Yes sir!"

Hands grabbed the half-blind boy as he desperately tried to adjust his eyes to all the bright white. He opened his mouth to call out, but it felt as though he hadn't spoken in years. A dry, cottony feeling permeated his taste buds and after a few seconds of trying, he finally got out a quiet "what?"

Instantly, there was a hush from the unseen owners of the hands. They helped him sit in a chair of sorts and threw a blanket over his form.

Alex sensed the silent crowd back away, but one separated from the rest and approached him.

"Hello?" he tentatively asked.

Confused and slightly wary, Alex replied in a scratchy, halting voice. "Who are… you?"

There was what sounded like an excited squeak from the invisible man before him, then a reply.

"I am doctor Carlton, but you can call me Andy."

"Where am… I, A… Andy?" Alex's voice couldn't seem to coordinate with his thoughts enough that he could properly reply. As his vision began clearing, Alex could just make out the form of a man before him in a damned white coat.

What was with all the white?

"You're in the Paradox complex, my dear Alex. But I think the question you'll really want answered is, 'when are you?'"

Alex's ears perked up. And uneasy feeling had begun to chew at his stomach. "What do you… mean, 'when am… I?'"

Dr. Carlton clucked his tongue in sympathy. "My dear Alex, you're in the year twenty eighty-one."

. . . .

Authors Note: Oh my God! What have I done to poor Alex now!

This idea bit my hand and just wouldn't let it go. I should be focusing on my HP/DP and TVC, so I probably won't continue with this. But since I can't seem to focus on one thing for too long, you never know. *wiggles eyebrows*