Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
Chapter 1
It was the dripping that woke Alex, the steady pat of something just a bit thicker than water splashing into a shallow puddle. He could see how bright the room was even through his closed eyes, it was almost as if there was a large spotlight shining on him. It wasn't until he opened his eyes that he realized, there sort of was.
Sitting in the corner, perched atop it's tripod, a work lamp was positioned in the direction of Alex. Bringing attention to the fact that he was laying atop what seemed to be a makeshift table. Much to Alex's dismay he wasn't strapped down at all, whoever put him there must have expected him to be unconscious longer. Sitting up he quickly discovered the source of the dripping.
Him.
There was a large gash down the inside of his arm that was slowly oozing. He must have been there quite a while. If the size of the pool of blood below him, or the way his head spun and his vision went darker and darker with every movement was anything to go off of. The bleeding had already slowed tremendously, although he doubted it would fully stop without medical intervention, the gash was much too deep to heal on its own.
He was in the same clothes that he remembered wearing, he could only assume it was earlier that day. He had been rushing home from football practice, already late he was slipping through the crowd of San Francisco tourists trying not to hit anyone with the large bag of gear thrown over his shoulder. He hoped he would be able to find the bag, he really didn't want to go through the blisters of breaking in new cleats again so soon. The sneakers he had been wearing on his way home had been removed, as well as his socks, something Alex found rather odd.
There was a large opening where he assumed a window would eventually be installed covered only by a layer of plastic, duct taped at the top to keep it from blowing away, not doing much to keep from blowing in the bracing March sea air. He was in the city, definitely. In one of the many unfinished high rises San Francisco has to offer. Quite near the top if he had to guess by the size of the lone Taxi passing, completely oblivious to what was happening thirty floors above. From what he could tell he was in the Financial District which wouldn't help him at all. No businessman would be out in the city, let alone stop at this time of night for a hitchhiking teenager. It was only about a half hour walk but Alex would prefer not to be wandering around barefoot in the city streets.
Getting up slowly, he tried to give his remaining blood time to circulate for a moment with each new movement. The last thing he needed was to pass out and whoever left him here to come back. The adrenaline should keep him going long enough to get somewhere safe, but the blood loss was another story. He was very light headed, he must have started bleeding long before getting here, there wasn't enough blood on the floor for him to feel like this.
Just get to the street. All he needed to do was get to the street, easy enough. There were no walls up, just framing and the occasional concrete pillar. There were a few areas that had been sectioned off by using cheap looking tarps. Alex guessed it was to keep things easy for the construction workers, but it just made finding the way out a bit more difficult for him. He was dizzy and struggling to walk straight, almost as if he was drunk. Almost but not quite. He was stumbling, trying to steady himself on anything within reach. This was more than just blood loss. Like most teenagers in America Alex had dabbled in his share of recreational drugs and alcohol, but nothing he had tried had come close to this. His legs didn't seem to be doing what he told them to. The farther Alex got from his makeshift room the darker it got, making it harder to navigate his way to where he could only hope stairs were. It was a dark night, the moon was shrouded by a thick layer of clouds, he was too high up for the lights of the city below to be of any help.
Finally, after what felt like ages Alex stumbled across what he was hoping would be a stairwell. It looked like a room, the walls were made of cinderblocks with a large cutout doorway. It was pitch black inside. Alex would be blind, navigating god knows how many flights of stairs, with likely no railing to warn him of an edge and nothing but more concrete steps to break his fall. He'll have to move slowly, carefully.
Oh, how he longed to be at the Pleasures modest home. Laying comfortable and warm in his bed, the sporadic sounds of the street below slipping in with the breeze through his open window, The Pleasures dog snoring softly just outside his door. The moonlight illuminating his room on clear nights like tonight.
Alex had dropped down to all fours in search of the stairs, careful to keep his weight on his knees and to just feel with his hands. He stayed against the wall, knowing the steps would be on one of the sides. It didn't take him long to locate the edge of the platform he was atop, reaching further down he felt nothing. Slowly moving across the ledge his hand finally hit something solid, the first step. He pressed his body against the wall and crouched low, slowly descending into the darkness. He took his time, making sure he felt the next step before putting his weight onto it. The fact that he was barefoot only made the descent easier.
The darkness loomed over him like a thick blanket, It felt almost suffocating. Basements were few and far between in San Francisco, being so close to the sea digging usually just means you'll find water. He just hoped that luck was on his side tonight and the contractor of this high-rise hadn't decided to throw caution to the wind. He tried to focus on just getting to the next landing, not on what or who he was going to find at the bottom. Counting as he went, he had gone thirty-seven floors by the time he started to see a speck of light at the bottom, hoping it was the light from the street Alex pushed on. His movements were deliberate, calculated, they had to be. He only had so much energy to spare and he doubted whoever brought him here would let him leave without a fight. He had to conserve the small amount of energy he had. Even if he was in the building alone, he still had to get home.
Reaching the bottom he realized how oddly quiet it was. There didn't seem to be any sound apart from the sounds of the city in the distance. He had descended forty-two floors in total if his count was right.
Now that he was on the ground floor the lights from the street illuminated the inside of the building, slowly creeping to the doorway Alex peaked out, checking every corner he could see of what would presumably be the lobby. No one. There was a lone folding metal chair in the middle of the room. He could see the large glass door to the street. The only thing between him and going home was a fragile bit of glass. Moving slowly Alex began to make his way to the door. Checking where he was stepping, very aware of his brain telling him it was a trap. To find another way out. But he was close now. Mere steps away and nothing had happened. He had to try.
"You tied him down right?"
"What's the worst he can do? He's just a child. Besides, the drugs I gave him should keep him down for at least another couple of hours."
Alex spun around just in time to see two people walk out of the stairwell. They must have been on a different floor or Alex would have walked right into them. They looked just as surprised as Alex felt, though that didn't seem to slow their reaction.
"Don't try to escape" The man held out a knife but didn't move to get any closer. "We don't want to hurt you. Why don't you take a seat." The man was definitely American, he was dressed in some odd sort of cocktail attire that looked as though he had pulled it straight out of the 1920's. He grinned at Alex's obvious hesitation giving a glimpse of what was left in his rotting mouth.
The woman twitched next to the man, drawing Alex's attention. She was dressed in a bright red cocktail dress that looked as though she had dragged it through the mud before putting it on. Her makeup was smeared down her cheeks and her hair looked as though it hadn't been brushed in months. The sores around her mouth gave it away. Meth. These people couldn't have any idea who he was.
"What's going on?" Alex asked quietly, doing his best to sound like the scared schoolboy he should have been. "Please, my parents have got to be worried sick and I-I have this cut on my arm. I think I need to go to the hospital."
"Sit down." The man repeated, taking a step closer.
Alex slowly made his way back to the chair sitting ominously in the middle of the floor. The man followed, stopping only when Alex was within arms reach, making sure to keep the knife pointed at him.
"This is going to be the best payday we've had in years!" The woman exclaimed loudly in the silent, empty building.
"Shut up!" The man snapped, looking to scowl at the woman before turning his attention back to Alex.
Alex moved, swiping the man's wrist so the knife clattered to the floor skidding out of reach, a well placed and hard jab to his throat and he was down, without wasting any time Alex crossed the room slamming the woman's head into the cinderblock wall of the stairwell just as she had opened her mouth to yell.
Alex picked up the forgotten knife and sliding it carefully into his waistband, made a beeline to the door, not wanting to spend any longer in this building.
Reaching the door, he quickly checked the lock, seeing it was already unlocked he pushed. Nothing. He tried again, pushing as hard as he could. The door wouldn't open, it had to have been stuck. He wanted to scream, to curse Ian, and MI6, and whatever else was happening that put him in this godforsaken situation.
Alex took a deep breath, trying to calm the mounting panic and frustration he took a step back, and looked closer at the door. A secondary lock, right at the top. Alex slid the bar down, finally able to swing the door open.
Stepping onto the street Alex expected... something, anything to happen. Alarms, people yelling, a gunshot or two? Nothing happened. The street was empty. This all felt too easy. Alex quickly examined his surroundings. Looking at street signs to decide his route home. He would need to take a detour and check for his football bag.
His arm had started bleeding again sometime during the fight, if you could even call it that. The wound was quite large and he doubted his usual super glue would hold it closed. The thought of going to the hospital was just as unappealing as going back into the high rise. He had learned the basics of suturing wounds during his time at Brecon Beacons, then again at Malagosto. How hard could it be.
Alex had walked two blocks by the time it occurred to him that he should call someone. Let them know what happened. He didn't want to think about if the people were unconscious or dead, but he wanted a construction worker to find the bodies and the evidence of Alex's presence come Monday morning even less.
He needed to find a phone, payphones were getting harder and harder to find, but luckily for him San Francisco still had a surprising amount strewn about the city.
It took him another 10 or so minutes to find a working phone. Alex had made a point of memorizing the new phone numbers he thought could be helpful should he need them after moving to america. There was little anyone could do for him back home at this point.
Alex gave his real name to the robotic voice of the operator hoping it would make the man more inclined to accept the collect call.
"Alex?" Joe Byrne answered after two and a half rings.
"Sorry to call so late." Alex said quietly. He had no idea where Joe Byrne was at the moment, much less the time.
"Are you okay?" The man seemed concerned. He had given Alex his number quite a while back, but this was the first time he'd had to use it.
"There has been a bit of a situation." Alex was reluctant to say too much, this was an unsecured line and despite his earlier thought of being snatched by coincidence, the woman's comment about their payday made him think otherwise. Sticking with the necessary information, Alex gave the address he believed belongs to the building as well as a brief description in case the address was off. "It needs a clean up." He added as an afterthought.
"Will you get home okay?" Joe asked in a serious tone. Not paying full attention to the conversation anymore. He was probably organizing a clean up team and a cover story in case anyone asked.
"Yes." Alex responded, eyeing an approaching car that had just rounded the corner.
"I'll be in touch." Joe finished, ending the call.
Alex sighed, keeping his head down to pointedly ignore the still approaching car he turned to make his way back to the route he was taking home from football practice earlier that day. He wished he would have thought to take the man's shoes back at the high rise. His feet were numb and he had to pay extra attention to where he stepped, slowing his pace considerably.
The car was on him now, it had pulled to the side of the road keeping pace with Alex.
"You alright kid?" The driver asked through the rolled down window.
Alex risked a glance at the driver slowing to a stop. The man looked familiar, though Alex couldn't quite place where he knew him from he was sure he had seen the man before.
"Fine, thanks." Alex responded and started walking again.
"It's Alex right?" The man asked "You live with the Pleasures, on the corner of Lyon and Jackson?"
"Who are you?" Alex stopped, turning fully towards the car this time. Hand inching towards the knife sitting reassuring in his waistband.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've had the chance to meet yet." The man responded sheepishly. "I'm Jake Revie. My wife and I moved into the house next door about a month ago."
Alex watched him closely, he could remember Edward and Liz talking about the new neighbors. They seemed to like them, Alex hadn't met them yet.
"Do you need a ride?" The man - Jake asked after Alex hadn't said anything.
"How did you recognize me?" Alex said finally.
Jake let out a chuckle. "No need to be so suspicious, I saw a photo of you on the bookshelf. A mugshot I believe." He grinned.
Sabina had framed his mugshot from the time he was arrested last year as a joke. Liz had kept it on display ever since.
"So what do you say?" Jake asked again, "Can I give you a ride home? It's on my way anyways."
"... Okay," Alex agreed finally against his better judgement and climbed in the passenger seat.
"You're hurt." Jake said looking Alex over, eyes lingering on his bare feet before looking back to his arm.
"I'm fine." Alex shook his head.
"Let me take you to the hospital-"
"No" Alex interrupted quickly, reaching for the door handle.
"Okay, no hospital." Jake lifted both hands as if surrendering "My wife is a nurse, at least let her take a look at it?"
"Do you mind if we take a detour? I've left my football bag." Alex said instead, ignoring the man's request. He buckled his seatbelt, hoping Jake would take the hint to start driving.
"Okay," Jake agreed, putting the car back into gear and pulling away from the curb. "Where did you leave it?"
"I'm not sure the exact spot, more the general location." Alex shrugged.
"...Alright" Jake gave Alex a confused look but didn't ask any more questions, instead silently following Alex's directions.
They found his bag tucked behind a dumpster he couldn't remember being near. Alex dug through, looking for an extra pair of shoes or even just socks. Anything to offer even a bit of protection to his bare feet.
He found three loose socks in the side pocket next to his cell. He put the socks on before tossing his bag in the backseat and climbing back into the front.
23 missed calls
7 Voicemails
37 new text messages
All from Sabina. Alex scanned through the transcripts from the voicemails and over the texts quickly. She had told Edward and Liz that Alex was staying at a friend's house, She was furious.
Sorry, lost track of time. I'm okay, I'll see you in the morning. He clicked send before he could think better of it, and let his head fall against the door, watching the scenery blur past.
"Might I ask what you were doing out so late?" Jake asked quietly.
"What were you doing out so late?" Alex countered, stealing a glance at the clock on the dash. 2:47 am. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Jake laughed loudly, startling Alex out of his daze. "I had some work to finish up, it took a bit longer than I expected it to."
"At two in the morning?" Alex questioned, turning to look at the man. His dark hair and strong bone structure reflecting the light from the city outside the car.
"Like I said, it took a bit longer than I expected it to." Jake repeated the amused smile never leaving his face. "And you?"
"The time got away from me" Alex responded, not exactly a lie.
The man hummed quietly, not entirely believing Alex but content to not ask any more questions.
The rest of the short drive passed in a comfortable silence that Alex was grateful for. Jake didn't seem to be one to pry too hard into Alex's business which relieved Alex just as much as it concerned him. Anyone that was accepting Alex's non-answers as well as Jake was, had to be involved in some shady business of his own.
"Will you let my wife take a look at that for you?" Jake asked as soon as he parked the car outside the house.
"Okay," Alex hesitated before climbing out of the car. He wouldn't be able to go home until morning if Sabina told her parents he was staying with a friend. He hated lying to them after all they have done for him, but the truth would just worry them.
Jake slung the football bag over his shoulder and led Alex inside. They made their way through the dark house into the kitchen where Jake turned on the light and pulled out a barstool for Alex.
"Make yourself at home, there is food in the fridge and the pantry if you are hungry. I'll go get Holly, have her bring her supplies down." Jake smiled, filling a glass with water from the sink before handing it to Alex.
"Thanks." Alex took the glass and watching Jake leave the room drank it down in a few gulps, before reaching over the bar to refill it. He could hear talking upstairs, although it was too quiet for him to make any words out.
The kitchen looked like something out of a magazine. Decorated well, but with no personal touches it looked as though it had been designed to give no information about the owners. Alex wanted to see the rest of the house, find a picture, a book, anything that would give him a hint into the lives of Jake and his wife.
The voice in Alex's head came back, louder and more insistent this time. He needed to get out, a house in this part of town was not cheap and the decor of the kitchen alone was fishy enough to make him uncomfortable. He had never asked Jake what he did for work, though he doubts he would have gotten the truth either way. He fingered the handle of the knife, the blade sitting comfortingly against his thigh.
"Hello," A soft voice came from the doorway breaking through Alex's train of thought. "You must be Alex, I'm Holly." The woman smiled.
"Hi," Alex forced a smile.
Seeing the two of them standing in the doorway, Alex was hit by the overwhelming feeling of having met them before. Both of them.
"Can I see your arm?" Holly had a small duffle bag draped over one shoulder, medical supplies Alex guessed.
"The bleeding has mostly stopped." Alex responded, twisting his arm to get a better look at the wound.
She hummed in acknowledgment pulling a chair closer. "May I?" She asked, reaching for his arm but not touching him. She was treating Alex like a spooked animal, giving him control of the situation and making sure he was aware of it.
Jake took a seat at the table, far enough away to give the illusion of privacy but close enough to easily interfere if Alex tried something. He opened a laptop clicking the touchpad every now and then. Alex doubted he was actually doing anything on the laptop.
They had experience with these sorts of situations, Alex was sure of that.
"How long have you been a nurse?" Alex handed his arm over, watching closely as she frowned, at the question or the wound he couldn't tell.
"It's been a little under twenty years," She smiled up at him before moving her attention back to his arm. "This isn't going to close on it's own, what did you say happened again?"
"I didn't." Alex could feel Jake's eyes on him at the response. Stealing his expression to one of cool indifference Alex met his gaze, as if daring him to ask again.
"Well I can stitch it up but you'll have a pretty nasty scar, and I unfortunately don't have any sort of local anesthetic. A plastic surgeon would be able to do a better job, less painful too." Holly sighed drawing back Alex's attention.
"I can't go to the hospital." Alex said resolutely.
"Very well then," Holly started pulling supplies out of her bag, lining them up neatly along the counter top.
Jake stood at Alex's response, making his way over to the freezer he pulled out a half full bottle of whisky pouring Alex a shot.
Alex hesitated reaching for the glass, "I'm underage?" He questioned.
Jake shrugged "Your choice, but it will help with the pain."
Alex sighed, throwing back the first shot followed quickly by the next as Jake immediately refilled the glass. It was disgusting, and it burned. He focused on keeping his face neutral, judging by the chuckle Jake let slip, he hadn't done a very good job. He was grateful he had refilled his glass of water, drinking a bit when he could feel the whisky crawling it's way back up his throat.
Alex was glad for the whisky the moment Holly started cleaning the wound. The adrenaline had long since worn off leaving nothing else to block the pain. Jake handed him another shot just before she started on the stitches. The pain wasn't as bad as Alex expected, though he could probably thank the whisky for that.
"What do you even do?" Alex blurted out eyeing Jake who had looked up from his computer with a frown. "Like for work I mean."
"I'm a compliance officer." He responded, eyeing Alex closely.
"Where?"
"A private financial institution, you wouldn't have heard of them." Jake answered simply.
"... Do you really expect me to believe that?" Alex questioned, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. The whisky was definitely having an effect he realized with a flush, quickly looking away from the man.
Jake huffed out a laugh "I think you've had enough whisky."
"We have a guest room," Holly interrupted, changing the subject. "If you needed somewhere to stay until morning, you're more than welcome." Her head stayed bowed over Alex's arm, working diligently.
"Uhm, yeah, that would be great actually." He wouldn't be able to go back to the pleasures until mid morning, it was probably not a smart decision to stay with people he had just met, but he was also aware that if they were planning anything they most likely wouldn't have gone to so much effort to fix him up first.
In the end it took 27 stitches and an additional 2 shots of whisky.
"Do you have any other wounds?" Holly asked after wrapping a neat bandage around the fresh sutures. She looked him over suspiciously but didn't prod him on the matter when he shook his head 'no' in response.
"The guest room is this way." Jake stood grabbing the football bag and motioning for Alex to follow.
There were a few more lights on in the house now giving Alex a chance to look around. Like the kitchen, each area he caught a glimpse of looked as though it had been pulled straight from a magazine. No personal touches, no photos, no random knick knacks they picked up on vacation.
Alex bit back the comment before it could escape his mouth.
The guest room was surprisingly bare, a neatly made bed accompanied by a side table and lamp were the only things in the room.
"The sheets are clean and there is a bathroom through that door." Jake motioned to the door on the opposite wall.
"Thanks," Alex said, watching Jake nod before closing the door behind him, leaving Alex alone and confused.
This stupid plot bunny has been sitting in my head for years and I just want it gone so here we are. I don't know completely where this is going at this point so I will update the summary and tags once I get that figured out. Cross-posted to AO3