A/N: Thank you all so much for sticking by this story for so long, especially during this delay in updating! I really appreciate it. I've had a blast writing "Alexander" and I hope you enjoy it just as much!!!
I know this chapter is kind of short, and it's been a while since I last updated . . . the story is beginning to wind down. Will Alex ever find happiness?
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"So, Alex . . . tell me about yourself."
Alex kept his eyes shut, and his arms crossed over his wide chest as he lay on the sofa and tried to ignore the soft voice from across the room. But he found himself replying anyway: "There's not much to tell really . . . it's not as interesting as some people think."
"Well, it's obviously bothering you," she spoke again, "or you wouldn't have tried to kill yourself."
"Some things are easier than living."
"Like dying?"
"Yes."
"But what about the people who care about you?" she questioned, "how would it effect them if you were gone?"
"It wouldn't effect anyone," Alex said.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Positive."
"So there's no one who would care if you lived or died?"
"No."
He opened his eyes slightly to see her leaning over and looking at him intently, her doe brown eyes were gentle and open. "Something must have happened to all those people who did care," she said, "or did you never have anyone?"
He hesitated. "I had someone . . . but she's gone now."
"And your family?"
He cringed. "My parents . . . died when I was young," he whispered, "I-I was always closed up, when I was in the Academy, so I didn't make friends." It was my fault. "I wanted to be a Time Force officer, I wanted to avenge my parents deaths. I didn't have time for anyone else."
"I see . . . " she looked down at her notes " . . . but there was someone who got past that, wasn't there?"
Alex's eyes flew open . . . how'd she know about that? Is my personal life that public? he wondered to himself. "Yes," he admitted, "there was."
"Tell me about her."
"Jennifer . . . I met her while she was in the Academy," he explained, "I was her instructor. We had to keep it quiet for a while, but when she graduated we moved in together and everyone knew about it. She was so insecure back then . . . she needed someone to be there for her . . . and I was."
"But what happened?"
" . . . Ransik." He sat up slowly, his back still shooting angry pains throughout his body. "He took my life . . . and her."
"Was she killed, too?"
"No . . . well, sort of."
She frowned. "I don't understand, Alex," she said.
"The Jennifer I fell in love with . . . is gone," he sighed, "when I saw her again she was falling in love with someone else." He shook his head. "It was too late . . . but I didn't help anything, I pushed her away."
"Why?"
Why . . . "It's complicated," he said, "I never got a chance to explain to her why I acted the way I did. What I had seen . . . " he shuddered . . . "they were all going to die, and I had to stop it. I couldn't concentrate on how much I loved her."
"But she couldn't handle that."
"She wanted more. She wanted me to be the same."
"So this Jennifer wasn't the only one who changed?"
"No," Alex said, "I changed, too . . . how could I not change? How could she expect me to be the same?" He swore softly. "I died . . . I should be dead right now."
"Is that really how you feel?" she asked, "that you shouldn't be alive? Is that why you tried to kill yourself?"
"There's no reason to live anymore."
"What about . . . living for yourself?"
"I don't deserve it!" he snapped, "don't you get it? It's my fault they're all gone, I pushed them away, and now they're not coming back!" He was breathing hard. "You can't help . . . "
She paused. "I think I can," she countered, "but you have to do something, too."
Alex rolled his eyes. "Fine . . .what'd you want me to do?"
"I want you to take time off from your job," she replied, "and go home . . . not where you live now, wherever your home used to be. Where you lived as a child. You need to learn to live as a regular person again, before you live as an officer."
Alex didn't speak, he stared at her blankly for a moment, imagining his childhood home outside the city . . . he hadn't set foot there since his father died.
"Will you do that?"
He stood up stiffly, avoiding meeting the woman's eyes as he left the room without answering her and headed outside; he got in his car and drove off, fully intending to go back to his apartment. But he went by the building and continued till he reached the city limits and found himslef pulling into the driveway of an old-fashioned house that was obviously empty.
It was two-stories, cream curtains in every window and a large porch out front, with two rocking chairs and a table still set up outside the big, oak door. He stepped outside, his breath catching in his throat; the yard was overgrown, the paint on the porch chipped, the old tree up front creaking as it's leaves blew in the breeze.
He walked around the house to the backyard and froze midstride . . . a rusted bike lay on the ground, a pair of work gloves were buried in the high grass, a plastic cup leaned against the wall. Nothing had changed. Time Force never sold the house, and apparently they never cleaned it up either . . . maybe someone had known he would return someday.
It was time to go inside.
Reluctantly, he stepped onto the porch and walked inside, the lights automatically turning on when he closed the door behind him. He ignored the kitchen to his right, the living room to his left, and headed up the stairs; his hand was trembling as he raised it and pushed on the door, it swung open easily . . .
The blankets were scattered across the bed, the pillow was lying on the floor next to it, the window was open and the dark blue curtains were blowing gently. A book lay open on the desk, a small stack of papers next to it; it was as if the house had been frozen in time.
He unzipped his jacket and tossed it to the side, sinking down on his old bed and lying down, a small smile forming on his face . . .
. . . "Alex? Alex, sweetie, it's time to wake up."
He opened his eyes halfway and looked up to see his mother leaning over him, chuckling softly to herself at his reluctance to get out of bed. "It's nearly eight o'clock," she told him.
"So? It's Saturday."
She laughed aloud. "You're gonna miss breakfast," she warned, "better hurry up or your father's gonna eat all the pancakes!"
"Too late!" he yelled from down the hall.
Alex sprung out of bed and raced out of his room, chasing his father down the stairs as his mother's laughter echoed through the house. "Dad!" he complained, finally catching up with him.
"Oh, calm yourself, Alex," his father said, "plenty left for you."
The nine-year-old plopped himself down at the table as his mother walked into the kitchen, still laughing; his parents exchanged a loving kiss and a "good morning" as he watched with a mischievous smile on his face.
"Yuck . . . " he muttered.
"I know, I know," his mother said, "eat your pancakes and ignore us . . . "
. . . maybe the therapist had been right, going home was exactly what he had needed all along; with that thought on his mind, he closed his eyes again . . .
MORNING
Alex opened his eyes to the sweet sounds of birds chirping outside his window, he rolled onto his side to look over at the old clock on the wall, smirking lazily to himself when he saw it was half past eight. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept in so late . . . stretching stiffly, he sat up, the blankets falling from his body.
There was a mirror across the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in it and blinked in surprise: The scars . . . the paleness of his skin . . . I look like shit, he told himself. Not at all like the healthy, athletic man who had been awarded the Red Chrono Morpher an eternity ago.
Ten minutes later, he had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt and was easily jogging down the dirt path behind his old home. His back was throbbing painfully with each step, but he continued on despite it, gritting his teeth; he hadn't gone a single mile yet, a staggering difference from the ten he used to run once every week.
He used to run with Jen whenever possible, urging her on mile after mile, and eventually collapsing into the grass with her . . . they would both be exhausted, curled up in each other's arms while catching their breath. He could still feel her soft skin against his . . . see her deep brown eyes as they gazed into his . . . abruptly, he stopped running and walked off the path to a tree, leaning against it as the memories continued to assault him.
Jennifer . . . how can I let you go?
You lived before you met her, you can do it again. He bitterly remembered the times before he had met Jen, long ago when he had loved Sienna almost as much; when he had lost her, he found a way to move on, to continue living. He was so sure he would never love another . . . and then he met her . . .
. . . he walked outside and headed down the sidewalk, staring at the outer wall of the Academy, not looking ahead of him; he felt his body run into something and turned as a young woman knelt to pick up the helmet she had dropped.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, close to tears.
Alex quickly picked her helmet up and handed it to her, their eyes met, his blue to her brown as he said sincerely: "No . . . I'm sorry." She smirked a little and he managed a small smile, she was beautiful, but plain; brown hair tied up in a ponytail, her safety vest still strapped on.
"New to the Academy?" Alex assumed.
"Yes . . . " she said quietly, "since September." She quickly dabbed at her teary eyes and Alex wondered what was wrong.
"You look young," he commented.
"Fifteen."
"Fifteen!?" Alex blinked. "Why aren't you at the school? You're too young to be attending the Academy."
"They accepted me early," she said, "I-I have to go . . . "
. . . Alex shuddered as her voice echoed in his mind: I have to go . . . but she couldn't, not if he wouldn't let her. She was hurting, too, the man she truly loved was dead . . . and the man she had once loved had changed beyond recognition.
Suddenly, he knew what he needed to do.
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WESLEY COLLINS
Born: June 13th, 1980
Died: Dec. 20th, 2040
Beloved Son . . .
"Well, Wes---we meet again. I guess it's been a long time." Alex shifted his weight uncomfortably, staring down at the ancient headstone. "It's kind of ironic, don't you think? We both loved her, and we both lost her, even though it was for different reasons. I hate to it admit it, but we have a lot in common . . . "
He knelt on a knee and rested on hand on the stone, feeling closer to his dead ancestor than he had to anyone in a long time. "You took her from me," he said, sharply, "and I hated you for it . . . but I can't hate you forever. She wouldn't be here without you. You saved her life." He took a shaky breath. "And I realize now . . . that you really did love her."
He never heard the quiet footsteps behind him . . .
"I didn't need your help to lose her," Alex said, "I could do that on my own. I've hurt her, Wes . . . she hates me . . . it's too late now. Maybe if she had somehow stayed with you, she wouldn't have gotten her heart broken again." He wiped his eyes quickly. "I'm so sorry, Jennifer . . . I love you."
"Alex?"
He stood up, turning to see Jen standing there in a black dress, her hair down, her face devoid of any make-up. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, "I'll go now." He started to walk by her, but she grabbed his arm before he could get far.
"Alex . . . I heard what happened the other night."
He cringed. "I guess the whole world knows by now," he said, "doesn't surprise me any." He twisted out of her grip. "I'll leave you alone . . . "
"I heard what you said," Jen told him, "when you were talking to Wes . . . I-I don't hate you, Alex." She ran her fingers through her thick hair. "I just don't know you anymore."
"I know I'm different," Alex admitted, "I don't know what to tell you."
"I understand." She sighed. "I don't know what happened to us, Alex . . . I've changed, too. I'm not the woman you fell in love with, you can't possible know if you even love me anymore."
"I do, Jennifer," Alex said, "there's nothing you could do that would change that."
"Really?"
Hesitantly, he reached up and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand . . . "I can't tell you," he whispered, "how sorry I am for hurting you." I have to know . . . "Can you ever forgive me?"
He could see in her eyes that she was thinking about his hand striking her, but then they softened and she smiled a little, perhaps remembering happier times. She was silent, staring up at him with no bitterness or fear in her eyes; finally, she touched his arm and said, softly:
"A part of me will always belong to you, Alex."
Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her small frame . . . she let out a short breath, resting her head on his chest.
The healing was complete . . .
TBC